


Love Raffle

by NoxRequiem



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming Out, Discovering Sexual Identity, Established Kim Geonhak/Son Dongju, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Lee Keonhee/Lee Seoho, Strangers to Lovers, Tags to be added, temporary relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxRequiem/pseuds/NoxRequiem
Summary: Hwanwoong and Ravn don’t know each other, but both are immensely popular; one is a freshman gifted in every talent in school under the sun, and the other... is a ladies' man. It weirds Hwanwoong out that the hottest boy in school dates a different girl every week, but it's even weirder that he determines his next girlfriend through raffling love letters they give him.Has he ever dated another man, even for just seven days?Letter in hand, Hwanwoong is about to find out.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong, Lee Keonhee/Lee Seoho
Comments: 27
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for any delays or inconsistencies in my writing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day like this in uni is bound to give any student a mixture of different emotions. Hwanwoong is no exception.

Hwanwoong’s hands reach for the sky for the tenth time before his depleting patience finally runs out. Was it ten? He lost count. He’d also lost track of how long his friend had been harassing his rib cage with that strong bony finger of his.

“Keonhee,” he groans, wedging his head in between his arms as he stretches, “please stop making a scene. People are staring at us.”

The taller boy huffs, or so Hwanwoong thinks he does, when he crowds around him again. They’re seated on the wooden floor in the dance room, and though Hwanwoong’s class was finished for the day, the dancer continued to hold various positions and stretch in a lengthy cool down. It was difficult to relax with Keonhee’s finger constantly jabbing into his rib cage, but no sooner did he begin poking him did his whole hand drop to the floor and push himself closer to Hwanwoong. “I’m not making a scene! No one else is looking, and it’s perfectly normal to freak out when you get caught doing something you’re not supposed to do.”

Hwanwoong rests his arms at his sides, rolling his eyes. He can’t say he’s too concerned about what Keonhee is whining over now, but he’s going to ask anyway. “What are you talking about?”

“My tutor, Hwanwoong. Seoho is here.”

Hwanwoong had been trying to ignore Keonhee while maintaining the split position for what felt like ten minutes (though it certainly wasn’t that long, no; perhaps it was just a painful two minutes). He finally lifts his body off the ground and brings his legs back together, comfortably crossing them now as he performs the last of his cool down stretches. His body is drenched in sweat, and he wants to go home and shower more than anything, but his friend’s desperate need to hide is taking up too much attention in his mind. Any mention of his tutor always puts Keonhee in a state of panic. “He is? That’s nice. Why don’t you go say hi?”

The accompanied light smack on his friend’s arm earns him an incredulous look. “Why do you sound like a mom? I’m absolutely  _ not _ gonna make a fool of myself and talk to him when we’ve got  _ nothing _ in common. Plus I know what I’m getting from him the second our eyes meet, and I am  _ not _ in the mood for a scolding.”

Hwanwoong shrugs. “Okay, then don’t say hi to him. Simple solution.”

Keonhee hisses, “But what if  _ he _ approaches  _ me _ ? What if he talks to me about my homework?” He moans and frustratedly rubs his face with his hands, and Hwanwoong watches as he lightly scratches at his scalp and rakes his fingers through his hair. “God, if he starts interrogating me in front of you like he usually does, I think I might piss myself.”

Keonhee has always been a dramatic character. The shorter male can’t help but laugh, “Please don’t.” He watches some of his classmates huddle around a table close to the lockers, unaware of their actions for now. “I think you might be overreacting a little bit. We’re all college students! Maybe he’ll just say hi and ask if you’re doing okay, and then leave it at that.” He glances back at Keonhee. “He’s a nice person from what you’ve told me.”

The other shakes his head. There are faint crescent-shaped marks on his forehead where he dug his fingernails, and Hwanwoong wonders if they hurt. “He  _ was _ a nice person, like two months ago. Now he’s on my ass about everything down to when I sleep and how much coffee I drink and it’s like having a third parent or an annoying older brother.”

The same classmates Hwanwoong laid eyes on earlier begin chatting up an interruptive storm as loud as Keonhee, and Hwanwoong’s ears pick up a word that stirs up a sense of urgency in him (for the curious, the word is  _ recital) _ . He turns back to his friend and motions to the other dancers; his friend’s issue will have to wait. “Look Keonhee, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still kind of in class. I gotta get over there right now.”

“Your class let out like ten minutes ago! I watched your teacher dismiss you!” Keonhee protests. “What else do you have to do besides get your stuff?”

His response is immediate: “Grab a flier for the December recital we’re having, and then learn more choreography.”

It isn’t entirely false. The dance performance he and the entire class were preparing for was fast approaching. Summer came to a swift end (never mind the constant heat waves that plagued them and made the days seem longer than they really were), and seeing as it was already the middle of September, the dancer was hellbent on not letting any of the choreography rust over in his mind. If he had spare time in the morning before or evening after his dance class, he spent it learning and revising their choreo. It was tradition of his to sustain himself with microwavable meals and cat naps on the couch, and if asked, he would absolutely live there permanently until his graduation.

This was his first dance performance since entering college, and therefore, the most important to Hwanwoong.

But Keonhee isn’t buying it. “What more do you need to learn, Woong? It’s not like you have to perfect a solo dance. That’s the art director’s son’s job. You’ve already learned everything you need to.” He throws his hands in the air as a makeshift choreography, and Hwanwoong is both impressed and frustrated with the gestures. “Look, you’re done. Anything else you need?”

He’s somewhat right, he supposes. The practice “excuse” is pretty expired; according to his friend (and roommate, conveniently), the dancer is always reviewing the moves in his sleep. He actually wakes up in the morning with more bruises than he returns from class with. 

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes in defeat. “Never mind, I’m so sorry for cutting you off. So what would you be caught not doing?”

“My homework.”

The younger male snorts, “Really?” He receives a nod as a response. “Okay. Just think about it, Keonhee. You’re here right now, waiting for a friend to finish with his class without a quiet place to concentrate nearby. Also…” his face scrunches up. “It smells really ripe in here, and we have things we wanted to do today. Is it really the worst thing in the world to not do your homework the exact second your class ends?”

Keonhee doesn’t move from his place on the floor. “Hwanwoong, I’ve had him as a tutor since… well, months now. Do you really think that logic works on him if I still panic like this?!”

“What do you want me to do about it then, hyung?”

“Hurry with your cool down so we can leave!”

And there it is. 

Well, he WAS done with class for the day, even though he could come up with a thousand excuses why he wasn’t, but it wasn’t as though he could master anything else by straining himself. Hwanwoong stops stretching his arms with a relenting sigh. “Okay okay, fine. Why don’t you wait for me outside? I’ve gotta grab my stuff.”

Keonhee jumps to his feet in seconds. “Gotcha. Thanks for understanding.” He speeds off while crying  _ “I knew I could count on you!”  _ and it’s sheer volume was enough to turn confused heads towards the door.

Hwanwoong stares as his friend scampers out of the classroom, tired fingers combing messy blonde locks. As dramatic as the older male tends to be, Hwanwoong understood his struggle. Keonhee always had to simultaneously deal with low marks and high expectations at the same time. In the two years they’d known each other, Hwanwoong determined it wasn’t a normal characteristic of the elder male’s to wallow in despair; so when he seemed extremely down or too quiet, he couldn’t help but worry. He preferred the panic, preferred the vocal outbursts and the publicly embarrassing scenes, because at least Keonhee was still  _ hopeful _ .

(Not that he can personally stand that kind of spotlight on himself; it’s just an easier poison to swallow.)

The excitement in the chatter around him never dies down, and he thinks to himself what he wouldn’t give to just scurry home and crawl onto the couch after a nice long shower. Hwanwoong almost loses himself completely in the daydream as he drags his feet over to the lockers to retrieve his belongings, but his ears pick up his name being called and is subsequently yanked straight back out of the clouds.

“Hey Hwanwoong. Are you busy?”

That’s not Keonhee’s voice. The dancer’s head spins around, and he almost does a double take when his eyes land on the face of the art director’s son. 

Oh hell. The most powerful sophomore on campus is talking to him. To Hwanwoong.

Sure, they’re classmates and all. But Kim Geonhak can be a scary soul to approach.

Hwanwoong’s words are quick to trip off his tongue. “Oh, hey Geonhak. Yeah! I mean, no!” He clumsily tugs his bag out of the locker. “I’m not busy, I’m just heading home. What is it?”

Geonhak is standing only a few feet in front of him, and even though he seems rather shy and reserved, he still has this intimidating aura that Hwanwoong can guess has probably deterred many other kids from approaching him. It scares him off too, of course, being a freshman and all. Having to wear a title as enviable as “the shining star of a highly esteemed director” probably warrants so much unwanted attention, the timid kinds of people would seize every opportunity to hide from the spotlight and pretend not to exist.

People spoke dirty truths, too; Geonhak would never have to work a single day in his entire college career if he didn’t want to. His daddy could give him everything he could ever want. For example, if he wanted to be the one to shine onstage in every dance performance under the sun, his daddy would make sure their choreographer would dedicate the biggest blocks of time possible just for him... which is precisely what Hwanwoong’s teacher has done for their upcoming dance; Geonhak has a block of time, about ten minutes, reserved just for him.

But Geonhak hated all of the privileges. Hwanwoong knows this. He earned the spot in the recital, having worked so hard every single day since the dance’s announcement. If Hwanwoong was first to arrive to class and the last to leave every day, then Geonhak was certainly second and second to last, respectively. They had the same mindset of making sure they were content with their progress before they even considered going home. 

“It’s about the recital coming up,” the older male interrupts the train of thought, though he almost whispers it, eyeing the fliers plastered on the walls around them.

Hwanwoong forced himself out of his head quick enough to reply; “Yeah! The one in December that makes or breaks our grade, right? What about it?”

Geonhak seems reluctant, hesitant because of something. Hwanwoong is left wondering what it could possibly be for a whole ten seconds. “So…” He pauses, and Hwanwoong watches as the other’s fingers anxiously scratch at the back of his neck, “my dad wanted me to have a solo performance in the dance, but I won’t be able to do it.”

The shorter boy’s jaw drops. Well that’s certainly something that easily petrifies a tongue. “Really? How come?”

“I’ve... actually got an operation scheduled a week before that.”

Hwanwoong quickly blurts, “No way!! Are you serious?” before realizing he’s way too loud, and now people are staring at them. Geonhak is shrinking from the attention, and Hwanwoong is instantly apologetic. “I’m so sorry, that was really rude.”

“It’s okay,” Geonhak chuckles. Hwanwoong’s head conjures up the image of the one person he knows who would absolutely melt over this right now.

“But the instructor cut a huge part of the choreography for you!” The younger male tilts his head. “Are you sad?”

Geonhak nods. His eyes are now on the floor. “I know. I am a little disappointed.” And then; “I’m sorry.”

Oh. 

Hwanwoong frowns. “Why are you sorry?”

Geonhak sighs. “Well, a lot of people are saying I’m stealing the spotlight since I’m the art director’s son. I kind of figured everyone felt that way about it. It  _ was _ an overnight decision, after all.”

He suddenly smiles. Hwanwoong is suddenly annoyed. Not at the sophomore, of course, but at what he just said. “I don’t feel that way at all! You always work so hard, Geonhak.” It’s true; he truly does. Having to bear the weight of responsibility and a highly esteemed public image must be exhausting him. “You don’t have to beat yourself up over what people say about you. You deserve that spot!”

The older male doesn’t seem to pay his words any mind. “That’s okay. Either way, I won’t be dancing in the recital, so someone else would have to take my place.”

It breaks Hwanwoong’s heart to hear Geonhak apologizing for his existence. If only the person Geonhak was open to was here to reinforce Hwanwoong’s words, maybe Geonhak wouldn’t be so hard on himself for his unwanted reputation. “That’s too bad. I bet you were really looking forward to it.”

Geonhak is still smiling, but it seems a bit more genuine now. “It’s alright. I don’t really mind.”

Now came the next question.

“So… why did you come talk to me about this?”

The older male looks Hwanwoong straight in the eyes as he becomes serious, and Hwanwoong feels a chill run down his spine. “Because it’s important I let my replacement know why I won’t make it.”

Hwanwoong’s heart stopped. The world follows suit. 

“Me?”

Geonhak nods and gestures towards the expanse studio with his head. “I told the instructor I wanted you to take my place in the recital. I hope that’s okay.”

He can’t be serious. Hwanwoong’s words barely spill from the jam caught in his throat, overcome with mixed emotions. “Are you serious? You want  _ me _ to take your spot? Why me?”

“You’re the only other person I see in the dance room first thing in the morning,” Geonhak chortles. “I’ve watched how long it takes to get you to go home. If that isn’t dedication, I don’t know what is.”

Oh. Well that’s kind of embarrassing. With that revelation, Hwanwoong is suddenly ransacking his head for stupid things he could have done under the impression he was alone in the studio. “I…” His voice is weak, but his growing smile is not. “Thank you, Geonhak. I don’t… wow, thank you! And I’m sorry if I was doing anything dumb in front of you.”

Geonhak laughs again. “I should be thanking you. The show must go on, you know?” Hwanwoong nods in acknowledgment, red in the face. Geonhak stops himself from leaving, silent before he says one more thing; “… Oh, and please tell Dongju I said hi.”

Geonhak’s favorite person. His favorite person and Hwanwoong’s childhood friend.

Hwanwoong is beaming, “I will! Have you been having a hard time reaching him?”

“School’s been hard on him.” Geonhak has that sad tone Hwanwoong expected him to have. Still, he continues, “It's his senior year of high school, and his parents are observing his every move, so he can’t call as often as he likes.”

“Gotcha. Yeah, I’ll tell him!” The shorter male closes his locker and tosses his bag over his shoulder, waving to him. “Thank you again, Geonhak! See you around!”

Geonhak waves back. “See you.”

As they part ways, Hwanwoong forces himself to perform breathing exercises. The news thrust upon him has him hyperventilating and feeling faint, but it also sends surges of adrenaline throughout his body. He’s going to dance for  _ ten _ minutes by himself on stage. The audience will all be watching  _ him _ . It hasn’t fully hit him yet despite the frenzy it sent him into. He’s dying to tell everyone about it. Is this really his moment now?

Ten whole minutes, each being sixty seconds long. Is he even ready? Now he really doesn’t want to go home.

He’s going to pretend none of this is real and it is one crazy fever dream he has yet to wake from; otherwise he’ll go insane.

As he thrusts the bag over his shoulders and wedges himself between the students huddled around the table with fliers and programs atop it, his ears pick up Keonhee’s voice from just outside the classroom. Did a friend of his stop by? Oh God, did he run into his tutor anyway? It’s definitely his voice he’s hearing, but he can’t make out any words. 

“Poor guy,” he laughs to himself. He’s definitely hearing about it if it ends up being him.

He takes a good look at the flier, the design and palette ladled with winter themed decorations and colors. On it read the usual “ _ Come Attend our Annual Christmas Dance Recital _ ,” printed in a periwinkle cursive font on a rich dark blue background. The date for the performance is December 15th, slapped at the end of finals week this year, and despite the looming misery of endless tests no college student is ever fully prepared for, it is now a Friday that Hwanwoong is excited for the most.

Now to tell his family and friends about the amazing news! 

Speaking of which, Keonhee is leaning against the wall when Hwanwoong emerges outside with a bright smile. “I’m done now. Thanks for waiting for me.”

The taller male looks soulless. “Of course, we’re heading the same way anyway right?”

Hwanwoong nods. His gut feeling is telling him the worst of the two scenarios occurred while he was inside. 

“I just gotta grab my test from the envelope outside my classroom before we hit up the convenience store. Sounds good?”

“Sure.” Hwanwoong clears his throat. “By the way, who were you talking to just now?”

Keonhee gives him a look that says it all. “Guess.”

Hwanwoong snorts back a laugh. “Really? Was it Seoho?” Keonhee rubs the bridge of his nose and Hwanwoong’s lungs are dying. “Wow, so much for avoiding him! What did he say?”

“He said he hoped I did better on this test than last week’s… and that he expects to see my grade when I see him next week.” His friend peels away from the wall and begins to walk with Hwanwoong. 

The dancer is confused. “You’re not seeing him today? Today’s Friday.”

Keonhee shakes his head. “No, he says he’s got something important going on today and that I’ll just see him again next Wednesday.”

Hwanwoong comfortingly pats Keonhee’s back. “So you have the rest of the weekend to yourself! Let’s have some fun! I’ll rent us a dumb movie and we’ll just hang out today. How does that sound?”

Keonhee releases a deep sigh and his shoulders relax, and Hwanwoong feels good. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks Woong.”

They finally approach Keonhee’s math class, the door locked tight and the lights turned off. Just like the taller boy mentioned, there was a thick envelope with papers perched on a desk beside the window, labeled with the class course scribbled in red (statistics, Hwanwoong figured it said). Keonhee motions for Hwanwoong to wait as he grabs his test, fingers tangoing through the pages until he finds his name and tugging the packet of papers out.

Hwanwoong holds his tongue long enough to allow Keonhee to take a good look at the exam. “... How’d you do?”

Keonhee barks out a laugh. “Just like I knew I’d do!” He’s not happy, Hwanwoong realizes with a sinking feeling in his stomach, when Keonhee shows him the paper. Scribbled on it was a large 50 in red ink. “I failed. Again.”

Hwanwoong winces. There’s no saving his mood now. “I’m sorry, hyung. Math is hard, especially with what you’re taking? Stats? I’m surprised you’re doing so well.”

“I don’t deserve that praise, Woong.” The older male leans his head back as he groans. “God, Seoho’s gonna kill me…”

Hwanwoong doesn’t want to laugh, but it’s amusing where his mind travels to first, preferring to fear his tutor’s wrath instead of his own failures. It’s a change of pace from the usual direct path to depression he’s familiar with from their high school days, and it’s actually relieving to see. He smiles sympathetically. “Ice cream is sounding pretty good right now, huh?”

“An entire tub of it or nothing. And I’m down for a zombie movie tonight.”

“You got it, buddy.”

They’re down at the convenience store, browsing different ice cream flavors on display for them to grab after raiding the chips. They’d finally said no to chocolate after the four times they grabbed the tubs in the past two weeks, the more elaborate flavors catching their eyes this time. Keonhee had long tossed the test into his bag unceremoniously, probably hoping to bury it away in his mind the same way it would be buried under his books. “Which one do you want, Woong?”

Hwanwoong’s eyes dart between two different tubs. “Honestly, the cookies and cream one looks really yummy. What about you?”

Keonhee points at his choice. “I’ll feel the closest to alive again after some strawberry shortcake ice cream.”

“Ooh, let’s grab both!” The younger male swings the door open and takes them out. “After this, we’ll pick the dumbest zombie movie there is. Popcorn?

Keonhee nods. “Hell yeah. With 7-Up?”

“I’m more of a Sprite drinker,” Hwanwoong admits.

Keonhee shrugs, picking up the 2-liter bottle of Hwanwoong’s preference. “Close enough. Oh! How about Snickers chocolate?”

Hwanwoong makes a face. “Gross, but if it’s what your broken heart wants, it’s what your broken heart gets.”

His friend is grinning now. It’s warming Hwanwoong’s heart to witness and maybe, just maybe, his day can be salvaged after all. “Thanks.” He points to the beers in the fridge close to them. “Too bad we can’t drink alcohol yet.”

“Yeah. But we just have another year to go, right?” Hwanwoong conjures a plan in his head and beams. “How about next year? We celebrate at a bar after our 21st?”

Keonhee bemoans the wait. “That’s too far away from now. Didn’t you just turn 20, too?”

Hwanwoong frowns. “... That  _ is _ a long time from now.” He takes the soda bottle from the other and lifts it up. “Until then, I’ll happily stick to this.”

“Good for you, you baby, Keonhee snorts. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” The shorter male tugs on the other’s sleeve. The chips drop onto the floor. “Shoot, sorry. We can’t forget the cookies!”

Keonhee whines, leaving Hwanwoong to scoop the bag off the floor. “Scare me like that again and I might just literally die. Can we get a plastic bag for this stuff first?”

“Right, sorry.” The shorter male snickers. “I don’t wanna steal your tutor’s job. He should be the one to end you.”

“... On second thought, please do.”

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes and playfully pushes his friend to the counter. “Haha, okay. Maybe later. Let’s go grab the movie from the rental box. A full night of nonexistence awaits!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first multi-chapter fic in half a decade, so I’m excited to see how far I’ll go before abandoning it (lol). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems the world is successfully thwarting Hwanwoong’s and Keonhee’s attempts at not existing today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw:// referenced homophobia  
> .  
> .  
> More character and relationship introductions this chapter.

Keonhee is the first to arrive at the doorstep to their dorm, pulling out his keys from his pocket and swinging their front door open. It’s already freezing out, what with so much of the afternoon having flown by just waiting for Hwanwoong to finally leave the dance studio, and the temperature this particular night in September is definitely not nice to those who forgot their jackets (the dancer being one of them). Hwanwoong’s teeth chatter as he ascends the steps while Keonhee slips his coat off standing on the carpet floor. “One of us has got to set up the film while the other grabs the snacks.” He realizes his roommate is still on the staircase before calling out to him, “Hey! Snacks and movie set up! Who should do what?”

The dancer leaps up on the last step and enters their room a moment later, plopping his bag on the floor beside the window. “To be honest, I’d love to shower first. I feel sticky and gross.” 

His friend flashes him a grin. “Hungry too, right?”

“Very, but I think we still have leftovers from last night. I’m good with that.” Hwanwoong races for the bathroom. “Can you set everything up until I’m done?”

“Alright, I got it. But you better not fall asleep in the tub and waste all the hot water again, you hear?”

Hwanwoong chuckles at the comment before he shuts the door behind him. He wishes he could make that promise to him but disappointing him by breaking it is a far worse crime to commit.

But Hwanwoong manages to stay awake somehow, and about half an hour later, the younger male is greeted with the smell of popcorn and pizza. “I guess he ordered food out,” he muses to himself. He enters the living room, the TV looping the main menu screen footage of their zombie movie. Damn, even the cheesy graphics are creepy. Hwanwoong instantly regrets their film choice and forces himself to ignore the eerie music on his walk to the kitchen, leaning against the wall as he watches Keonhee work his way into the pizza box. “Hey, are you sure you wanna do zombies tonight?”

“I hope this isn’t you telling me you’re chickening out,” Keonhee glances at him with a smirk, his smile only widening at Hwanwoong’s frown. This is their first time watching a horror film together, and already Keonhee seems like an avid fan of the genre. “Scared?”

“For you. I bet I can handle this movie better than you,” the shorter male snorts. He’s not sure he’s as confident about those words as they sounded.

Keonhee sneers, “Loser either breaks out $50 or sponsors our next take-out night”

Hwanwoong points at him. “You’re on. Hand me a plate, please.”

Keonhee reaches in the cabinet above his head and passes it over. “Sure thing, boss.”

Hwanwoong answers with a small thanks and takes the plate. “Oh, I almost forgot…” He pulls out his cellphone and starts poking away at the screen. “Can you serve me too? I’m gonna give Dongju a quick call.”

“... Really?” Keonhee rolls his eyes and yanks the dish back. “Geez, Woong. I thought you were supposed to be the one taking care of me today!”

Hwanwoong pouts, “I am! I bought everything we have to eat!”

“Almost everything,” the older male corrects, posing awkwardly next to the box of food.

“Obviously except for the one large pizza  _ you _ bought on your own accord.” Hwanwoong mumbles flatly while he brings the phone to his ear. “Just one more second, I promise I’ll take over soon. Wait for me in the other room?”

Keonhee grabs two slices and drops them onto the plate for Hwanwoong, pivoting on his heels to wash the grease off of his fingers. “How’s Dongju doing, by the way?”

Hwanwoong shrugs. “Not too good from the sounds of it. I guess school has gotten super tough for him. You know how his situation is, don’t you?”

Becoming friends with the dancer means becoming friends with the high schooler and vice versa, Hwanwoong figured Keonhee learned. It was a silent deal they made, their acquaintanceship to other people like a packaged deal since the two boys knew each other since childhood (and are pretty overprotective of each other as a result; Hwanwoong’s reasoning being Dongju is meek and still a child and Dongju’s being Hwanwoong is too nice he can be taken advantage of). And though they had a bit of a rocky start in their relationship, Dongju and Keonhee can both agree they’ve been close for the same amount of time Keonhee and Hwanwoong have been friends. It delights Hwanwoong and fills him with a sense of pride to watch his worlds collide this way. 

“He’s a senior in high school now, right?”

“Yeah. His parents are really on him this semester.” Nothing on the phone yet. “He hasn’t been in touch with Geonhak lately and it’s worrying him. Geonhak, I mean.”

Keonhee hums, popping a kernel into his mouth. “Well, being the art director’s favorite star and all, Geonhak is probably just as busy as Dongju. Isn’t he in the recital with you?” Hwanwoong nods, and the elder male shrugs. “See? I bet they’re fine.”

No answer. Hwanwoong hangs up with a sigh. “About that though, Geonhak had actually given the solo to me. He told me he has to get surgery before that, so he won’t be able to perform after all… maybe he has more time to worry about him because of it.”

Keonhee stares incredulously at Hwanwoong mid mouthful of pizza. “... What did you say?”

Hwanwoong barely realizes what he said. “... Oh. That I… I have the solo?”

Keonhee almost resembles a statue, his shocked face frozen in place as he processes the information. Now Hwanwoong feels stupid telling him so casually like it was the world’s knowledge and his best friend is the last to know.

“Are you— are you serious, Woong??  _ You’re _ taking center stage? He asked  _ you? _ ”

Hwanwoong chuckles bashfully. “I am, yeah.”

Keonhee drops the pizza plate on the counter and throws his hands up in the air. “That’s the best news ever, Hwanwoong! Congrats! How come you didn’t bring this up sooner? How long have you known about this?”

He’s beaming, obviously ecstatic about what he’d just heard, and Hwanwoong’s cheeks burn from the attention. Good thing it was just the two of them in their room. The shorter male answers shyly, “Just today after class, but it’s not nice to gloat about my thing when my best friend was down in the dumps, you know?”

“Psh, what, over my test? Screw my failing grade, I’m reminded every other week anyway. This is awesome!!” The taller male playfully smacks Hwanwoong’s arm with his clean hand. “When’s the recital again?

The enthusiasm Hwanwoong receives plants a huge smile on his face. “The last Friday of school, after finals. I better start practicing harder now.”

“You’ll kick ass, I’m sure of it!” Keonhee wraps an arm around Hwanwoong in a small hug. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Geez hyung, you’re so loud!” But let’s face it; Hwanwoong wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you. I’m really nervous.”

Keonhee drawls. “Li. Ar. No you’re not. Not as much as you are pumped, at least. You know more than anyone you’ve got this in the bag!”

Hwanwoong huffs and folds his arms. Okay, maybe he is a  _ little _ right. The nerves are present when he sits still to dwell on them, but they’ve always quickly drowned in the adrenaline surges that erupt in his veins every time he has thought about it. How nervous can he really be?

He’s ready to dance in that recital.

(Let’s all pretend he has his solo bits down already, or else it really will keep him up at night.)

“Yeah well, until then, I have to work hard to convince my teacher I can be a good understudy.” Hwanwoong shrugs. “That won’t be easy.”

Keonhee rolls his eyes. “They love you, Woong, high expectations or not. Anyway, ready for the movie?”

“Oh God… Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  
  


They’re only about twenty minutes into the movie when Hwanwoong loses all feeling in his left arm. 

The clock beside the TV reads 8:28pm, so thankfully they’re not violating their quiet hour rule, but with Keonhee wailing and clinging onto Hwanwoong’s arm in a death grip and already on the verge of tears despite not even experiencing their first zombie sighting in the movie, Hwanwoong figures he himself is going to scream and get RA called on them anyway.

Well, they both know who’s paying for dinner next.

“Hyung,” Hwanwoong groans, ignoring the startled jump from the body beside him, “you’re hurting me.”

Keonhee is crying now (Hwanwoong swears he is), though it’s still more like he’s having an anxiety attack. “Just hold me… I can’t watch this part.”

“I really can’t feel my arm, though.”

“Shh, Woong! I think I’m gonna faint.”

It’s almost funny. Almost. Hwanwoong will cackle uncontrollably and ridicule his friend for puffing his chest out in the near future; the pain he has to power through is using too much energy to muster a laugh now. He whispers softly as to not scare him again, “I knew you were going to lose, but I hadn’t realized how badly you would, and now I’m paying for it...”

The older male either ignores him or is too busy trying not to die to retort. Hwanwoong frustratedly shifts in his seat and attempts to distract himself from the pain with popcorn. And it somewhat works...

Until Keonhee’s blood curdling screech launches the dancer’s heart straight into his throat. 

The shock hurt so bad he’s clutching onto his chest. “Oh my God, Keonhee!! What!?”

Keonhee is hyperventilating as he’s scrambling into his pockets. “My-my phone! Why the—! Why the hell— who is calling me right now? Can you pause the movie please?”

Hwanwoong nods. “Yeah sure.” He reaches for the remote and pauses the film, hiding his relief now that his arm is finally free. “Who is it?”

Keonhee stares intensely at the screen as the device buzzes away. “A friend of mine. Hang on, I’ll make this quick… Hello?”

Hwanwoong’s hip also tingles with an incoming phone call and his heart jolts straight up again. Damn, what is it with the world wanting to talk to them both during a horror movie night?

(Okay, it’s not like the world  _ would _ know they were scaring the piss out of themselves, but the timing was almost uncanny.)

Oh, it’s Dongju. 

“Oh good, you  _ can _ call me back!” Hwanwoong exclaims with a weak laugh before answering the call, “Hi Ju, are you busy?”

The boy on the other end’s yawn almost causes Hwanwoong to miss his reply; “ _ Not really, I was sleeping _ .”

Oops. Sorry, Ju. “Oh, this early in the night?”

“ _ No. Maybe... Yes _ .” Hwanwoong can picture the high schooler with tousled hair and droopy eyelids curled up on the bed under the covers. “ _ Did you try calling me _ ?”

Hwanwoong raises a brow. “No, my twin did. Yes, of course I called you.” Dongju chortles softly. “Hey, I have a message to deliver. It’s from Geonhak.”

Dongju’s voice jumps an entire octave. “ _ It is?? What did he say _ ?”

Hwanwoong grins to himself. He knew Dongju since they were kids, and for almost the same amount of time, Dongju knew Geonhak. The three of them should have been close, and very much  _ would _ have been close had Dongju’s mother and father been the more welcoming and open kind of parents. There was no way they would accept their son’s significant other no matter how perfect he may be (and let’s be real, Geonhak is the epitome of perfection); yet somehow, his and Geonhak’s relationship flourished throughout the hardships and long distance, even going so far as to promise to elope once Dongju finishes high school. 

And oh, how Hwanwoong was jealous of his younger friend. Happy for him first, of course, but jealous too.

“Just a “hi,” but I’ll be honest; just by looking at him, I can tell he really misses you.”

Dongju hums to himself, and Hwanwoong can’t express how delighted he was to hear the smile come through in his next sentence. “ _ Tell him I said hi the next time you see him.” _

Hwanwoong frowns. “You can’t text him yourself?”

“ _ I can’t. My parents will catch me if I do. _ ”

Of course they would, and of course that would bring about the end of Son Dongju. Realizing they’d never accept Dongju as he was as long as he “fell short” of meeting their expectations was a bitter pill to swallow. Hwanwoong stops chewing on a nail soon enough to change topics, “Is school really that hard?”

Dongju’s tone falls flat. “ _ It wouldn’t have to be if my parents had let me choose the classes I wanted to take _ .”

Fair point. Senior year could be the easiest or the hardest year for high school students. Poor Dongju. Hwanwoong opens his mouth to reply, but notices from the corner of his eye that his current company looks distressed, eyebrows crinkled and complimenting the big frown on his face. “Hang on a second, Ju.” He mouths to Keonhee. “You okay?”

Keonhee’s gaze flickers to Hwanwoong and he shakes his head, and even though he can’t answer him, his eyes still deliver the message. “… Yeah, I got some time. Let me move to another room really quick.” He pulls himself off the couch and onto his feet, throwing Hwanwoong a quick wave before he disappears in his room, and as much as Hwanwoong would love to find out what has gotten Keonhee so upset, it wasn’t his place to know. Instead he does his best to peel his attention away from that situation and give it back to the boy on the other end since, after tonight, he won’t hear from him again for a while.

“Sorry, I’m back now. But yeah, that sounds tough. Wish I could help you out.”

Dongju chuckles. “ _ It’s okay. I’m just ready to graduate. School is only gonna be a temporary hell for another year, I think I can manage _ .”

As daunting as his situation sounds, he still speaks level headedly and with hope. As another individual who is deathly afraid of coming out to his mother, Hwanwoong admires his childhood friend for his quiet strength. “You’re really excited about marrying him, huh?”

He could practically see Dongju shrugging, his words just a decibel above a whisper. “ _ I know my parents will never accept us, but I’m not scared. I just have to keep it a secret until after I walk, and then we’ll be free _ .”

Hwanwoong smiles fondly. “Hang in there, Dongju-ya. You’ll make it.”

“ _ Thanks, Hwanwoong _ .  _ Anyway, I should get back to doing my homework… thanks for calling _ .”

“Of course, I’m just happy I had the chance to talk to you. That’s what friends do.” He leans back on the couch and reaches for the popcorn. “Take it easy when you can, and when you find time, text Geonhak. Keonhee says hi too.”

Dongju drawls, “ _ I will,  _ mom _.” (Hwanwoong rolls his eyes.) “Hi, Hee. Okay, I’m out. Bye hyung _ .”

“Okay, bye.”

The dancer kills some time staring at the features of the lead actor frozen on screen, but not even five minutes pass by before his phone starts buzzing again. Did Dongju forget to say something to him?

Hwanwoong takes his phone out again and momentarily freaks out at the caller ID. It was his mom, not Dongju. “Hello?”

His mother’s soft voice replies back to him, “ _ Hi Hwanwoong, how are you _ ?”

“Hi Mom, I’m doing fine. How are you?”

“ _ Good, I was wondering if you were free for a quick minute _ .”

Hwanwoong glances at the clock for two seconds, and at Keonhee’s bedroom door for three. “Yeah, I can talk for a minute. I’m watching a movie with Keonhee hyung, but he took a call a little while ago and I don’t know when he’ll be back. Is everything okay?”

His mom hums. “ _ Oh yeah, everything’s fine. I won’t take up too much of your time _ .”

“It’s okay.”

She continues, “ _ So your aunts won’t be free for any Christmas parties until after the 25th, so we were thinking of visiting them out of town before New Year’s. You’re welcome to come along or stay behind if you’d like _ .”

Oh, Christmas parties! Hwanwoong’s heart dances at the thought of seeing his family again.

It’s mid September, and aside from the dance recital and finals mid December, Hwanwoong can’t think of anything else that far ahead. He hadn’t seen his family since Christmastime last year, and it was about time he played catch-up with their lives. “I’ll go! This is before New Year’s?”

“ _ Yes it is _ .”

“Okay. I want to go.” He conjures another idea in his head and bounces on his seat. “Oh, and I really want to celebrate Christmas at home with Keonhee hyung and Dongju too. Can we invite them this year?”

He can tell his mom is smiling on the other end. “ _ Of course, Woongie. It would just be us two otherwise. How are they, by the way _ ?

“Keonhee is doing okay, just struggling with math.” He breaks a sigh in between sentences. “And Dongju is also having a hard time with school, but I’m not able to talk to him as much.” 

“ _ I see. Is he still with Geonhak _ ?”

Hwanwoong grumbles, “Yeah, but even they haven’t kept in contact as much. From the way it sounds, Dongju’s parents hardly leave him alone to sleep.”

Her tone becomes melancholic. “ _ Poor boy must be run ragged; it must be really tough for him now. I hope he can free himself long enough for the holidays. _ ”

Hwanwoong’s mother has always treated Dongju as her own son for as long as he could remember, and at a time like this, when the quiet and collected high school student is powering through his hardest year and working out the last of his identity crisis, Hwanwoong is grateful she is in his corner. 

“Me too,” he finally responds before his head floats too high in the clouds. “If it’s possible, can we invite Geonhak over too? I know we don’t know him too well, but I really want to get closer to him.”

“How come?” His mom asks.

“I was thinking to myself, “ _ yeah, this man  _ is _ gonna marry one of my best friends _ !” Not only that, but Geonhak needed to pick an understudy for the dance recital in December, and he asked me to do it.”

(Leave it to Hwanwoong to drop these news so nonchalantly onto people. He wants to punch himself for it.)

“So thanks to him, I’ll have a solo in my very first college dance show! The least I can do is be his friend.”

Unlike Keonhee, his mother processes the information much more quickly and chirps, “Woongie, that is amazing news! I’m so excited for you! When is it again?”

Hwanwoong chuckles. “Thanks Mom! It’s on the last Friday of school in December, the 15th.”

She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears when she speaks, but Hwanwoong isn’t too sure. “I’ll remember that. Congratulations, baby! And yes, feel free to invite any of your friends over for Christmas. The more, the merrier.”

Hwanwoong dumps another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Okay mom, thank you.” As he chews away, Keonhee emerges from his bedroom and closes the door behind him, off of the phone now. Hwanwoong’s smile is brief, quickly dying when he realizes how gloomy his friend seems again. “A-anyway, please let me know when the Christmas party at Auntie’s is. I wanna be there this year too.”

“I will, Woongie. Do you have to go now?”

“Yeah, Keonhee is back.” He flashes the older male a toothy grin when his friend perks up at his name.

She sighs sadly. “Okay. I’ll let you go now. Make sure you eat and sleep well. Call me again tomorrow.”

Hwanwoong presses his lips together and wishes he wouldn’t feel so guilty for hanging up every single time she called. 

(But lonely moms have that effect on their only sons, he supposes. It’s only natural.) 

“Okay Mom. Good night.”

Keonhee waits patiently until Hwanwoong ends the call. “Christmas party?

“With the family,” the shorter male elaborates as he shoves his phone away, hopefully for the night. “I also wanna celebrate with you guys once the semester ends. You and Dongju. What do you think?”

Keonhee sprawls onto the couch with a groan. “I think that's absolutely great. It’ll be nice to completely detox from what’ll be a crazy year, if everything that happened this past week alone is anything to go off of.”

Hwanwoong is confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well I was talking to my classmate just now… she broke up with her “ _ boyfriend _ .””

The dancer is even more perplexed watching Keonhee gesture quotation marks with his fingers around the word “boyfriend.” And what does  _ that _ mean? “I’m not following the air quotes.”

Keonhee runs a tired hand in his hair. “Pass the popcorn, please.”

Hwanwoong obliges, stealing a few kernels.

A murmured “thanks” precedes a full mouthful of popcorn. “I mean…” He’s careful not to choke, and Hwanwoong snickers. “... their relationship was only temporary. She liked this guy since April, but had only been dating him for like a few days this past week. He doesn’t want anything serious, but of course, she fell for him anyway.”

Hwanwoong’s heart sinks into his stomach. Hearing that hurts him. “Oh my God, that’s horrible. Is it okay to leave her by herself right now?”

Keonhee swallows his current mouthful of kernels before scooping up another one. Hwanwoong swipes a handful in time before he loses possession of the bowl, and almost scolds his roommate for finishing their snack before they could resume their movie. “She has company over right now. She just called me so she could have someone to talk to before they got there.”

Ah, okay. So she’s not alone with her broken heart. Good. The younger male feels better now that he knows she has people. “I’m sorry she has to go through that.”

“Yeah, me too.” Angry chomping noises ensue. “That guy’s the biggest douche I’ve ever met.”

Hwanwoong makes a face. “He sounds like it.”

Keonhee massages a sore spot in his neck. “Hey, let’s get back to the movie. The more we talk about him, the sicker I’ll feel.”

“You feel sick?”

“Today just sucks! I’ve got a bad headache because of all the stress.”

The dancer smiles sympathetically. “I bet you do.” 

Everyone in his friend circle and in theirs apparently seems to be struggling this semester with a lot on their plates. Whether it’s low grades, failing relationships, a lack of money, or just life in general, hardship wears many faces and discriminates against no one.

Every person he spoke to today is just another reminder to count his blessings and enjoy the opportunities he’s given.

Keonhee must have been staring at Hwanwoong, because in a second he’s laughing. “Hey, no need to wear a long face! Let’s stuff ourselves stupid with junk food and hope she receives our happy thoughts telepathically.”

Hwanwoong lifts his eyes back to his friend. “Is that even a thing?”

“No. But if I’m wrong, I hope it works for her today.”

Hwanwoong nods, smirking. “I’m sending them your way too, then. You’re gonna need them too, you know.” He motions towards the TV with a hand. “Well? You gonna play it?”

Keonhee shoots him a look. “You have the controller, Woong.”

“Oh yeah… by the way,” the younger male muses, “have you considered maybe your headache could be because of or worsened by your screaming?”

The other scoffs. “As if. Now give me your arm.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to be consistent with updates, so please look forward to new chapters at the end of every week!
> 
> If I fail at this, please feel free to yell at me anywhere you see me.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an average week for Yeo Hwanwoong featuring some friends. 
> 
> Okay; it USED to be average.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a tad longer and probably harder to follow, but hooray for more relevant (and irrelevant) character introductions!

Two nightmare-ridden nights aside, the weekend flies by rather smoothly and quickly for the two boys.

Their entire Saturday is spent on homework assignments and projects; Hwanwoong practically shoves his face in his health textbook for hours, hoping to absorb the text into his brain through his nostrils. He  _ could _ blame his lack of concentration on his broken sleep, wondering if the remedy lies in the satisfying sip of an iced americano. But unless he could ensure himself he would have the mental capacity to handle the regret that would come with busting out his wallet, he is to remain rooted to his chair for however many hours he needs to finish his studying.

Well, he could always get Keonhee to sponsor the coffee run, considering he owes him $50 worth of food.

As he considers asking, he turns his gaze to his friend just as he plants his head on the desk and holds his cellphone away from his ear; a male voice proceeds to frustratedly chastise him for a low grade, his tirade echoing off the walls in the otherwise quiet living room.

(Best to save that for a day when the dancer’s craving something expensive, he figures.)

  
  


Then came Sunday.

Hwanwoong manages to make headway with his project for his Nutritional Health class despite having little to no communication with his partner. He and his classmate, a sophomore named Sanghee, had to muster a ten page essay together with a twenty percent weight on their grades, which was due tonight. The dancer is frustrated, to say the least, when she only picks up the phone the moment he hits six pages.

He remembers their conversation clearly:

_ “Hello?” _

“Hi sunbaenim, how have you been?” He asks politely. It was a challenge not to erupt in irritation over the phone, but the younger male kept his cool. There were probably many reasons why she couldn't have answered; he couldn’t go around assuming she was just avoiding doing the work. “It’s Hwanwoong.”

_ “Oh, Hwanwoong! This is your number?”  _ She proceeds to apologize over and over, as though she had just accidentally stepped on a pup’s tail. _ “I’m so sorry, I didn’t have it saved on my phone. I didn’t know how else to reach you.” _

And even though he memorized the scene that played out when they did indeed exchange numbers, he is still overwhelmed with guilt and couldn't find himself getting angry. Curse his weak heart sometimes.

“It’s okay. Have you been well?”

_ “I have! My boyfriend and I just came back from out of town today,”  _ she gushes.  _ “But now I’m back and we have to finish this project! What do you need me to do?” _

At least she seems happy and raring to go. Hwanwoong is scanning through his computer for the document he’d been working on and pulls it up. “I’m more than halfway done with the paper we have to write. I just need four more pages, and someone to proofread what I wrote. Would that be okay?”

_ “Sure!”  _ Relief washes over him for only a second when she comes back with, _ “Can it wait until I get back at 8 tonight?” _

“I think it’s due at midnight,” Hwanwoong frowns. “Are you sure it won’t be too much work?”

She doesn’t seem to mind the fact. _ “I’m sure!” _

They didn’t speak again until 10pm, when he was bombarded with apologies and tears about how a “family issue” took up all of her attention and energy until this late at night. Hwanwoong consoles her the best he could while filing his irritation away, assuring her he had written out the rest of the essay just in case something like this happened.

And Keonhee, if he remembers correctly, cheered him on from behind and made sure Hwanwoong’s scalp wasn’t too badly damaged when their last day off came to an end.

“I spilled cereal on my textbook and now I’m waiting for it to dry,” he stated in such a matter-of-fact tone that Hwanwoong wondered if he’d felt any guilt towards it at all.

“At least it’s your hundred dollars you wasted and not the school’s.”

  
  


——

  
  


Before anyone knew it, their Sunday night bled into Monday morning.

The taller male is always out of the dorm by the time Hwanwoong is up and about, and while Hwanwoong is used to the quiet and didn’t mind getting ready in silence, it was definitely harder waking up and finding motivation to move on his own. Keonhee’s math class usually starts around nine in the morning, while Hwanwoong has time to himself until 11:30am, and that difference in time is almost completely spent on extra sleep.

Hwanwoong’s phone sported a few messages when he peels his eyes open. Though he should probably wait to read them, he unlocks his phone anyway and rubs his eyes.

  
  
  


**[From: Lee Hee Hyung] [Mon 8:57 AM]**

hey Woong, I finished the last of the pizza this morning

I left some cash for you for breakfast since I owe you anyway

go nuts and gl in class today :)

  
  
  


Oh good. He  _ does _ remember their bet. Hwanwoong groans and rolls over in the bed, too tangled in the blankets to move. He opens the next message.

  
  
  


**[From: Mom] [Sun 11:01 PM]**

Hi Hwanwoong, are you coming over this weekend? 

  
  
  


_ Yes _ , he answers in his head, fingers absently following along as they send the response. He drops his arm to the side with a yawn. Just five more minutes to sleep, and he’ll be happy.

What time was it anyway?

He glances at his clock perched on his nightstand beside his lamp. 10:36 AM.

“Oh no, is it that late already? I don’t wanna get up...” He moans as he flips onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow.

His cell beside him suddenly blares the alarm he’d set the night before, and the sheer volume has him kicking wildly in shock and almost face planting onto the floor beneath him.

FINE, world. You win. He’ll get up.

  
  


“Good morning, Hwanwoong!”

The dancer peels an earbud from his ear and smiles at his company, which happened to be the few girls in his class and their friends. “Oh! Good morning, sunbaenim.”

Sanghee is waving to someone farther off in the distance before turning her attention back to Hwanwoong. “Hwanwoong, I’m really sorry again for not helping you with the essay. Please let me be your partner for the exam and I’ll finish the written pre-quiz assignments for you.”

Hwanwoong waves a hand in the air as he shakes his head. “No no, it’s okay! I have to travel out of town for family visits too. I know how late it can get when you go home.”

Sanghee frowns. “How can I make it up to you?”

The dancer ponders in thought for a moment. “I don’t want you to trouble yourself… maybe just helping me study would be nice!”

“Of course!”

Another classmate snickers behind him. “You’re too mean to him, Sanghee-unnie, for making him work so hard for you.”

Sanghee shoots her a look. Hwanwoong chuckles. “It’s fine, Nana. It wasn’t any trouble. I had lots of time since I couldn’t sleep well anyway.”

“You should team up with me so we could get the best score on the test,” his classmate Nana, a first-year like him, continues with a coy smile, though she seems to be hiding an ulterior motive behind it. “Maybe Sanghee can sit in if she needs help or if she spends too much time with her boyfriend.”

The elder female purses her lips in frustration. Hwanwoong keeps his mouth closed while they argue. “At least I  _ have _ a boyfriend.”

Nana nods. “That’s good though, unnie. I’m not telling you it’s wrong, or a bad thing. Just don’t make people do your work for you.” She then shrugs.

Sanghee glances back at Hwanwoong. “Can I buy you lunch today?”

Hwanwoong grins. “Maybe just an iced Americano, please?”

“Sure!” She nods her head to him with assurance before stealing a look at her phone. “Oh, I forgot something. I’ll be right back!”

Nana and a friend next to her call out to her as she speeds past them, “You’re gonna be late! Class starts in a minute!”

But she pays them no mind and slows her pace when she approaches a man standing about twenty feet away from the crowd, and as the two engage in a conversation and tune the world out, Hwanwoong finds he loses himself watching them.

Holy hell, Sanghee’s boyfriend is really attractive.

“Hwanwoong?”

The dancer snaps back to reality and realizes he’s now staring into Nana’s friend’s eyes (Eunae was her name, if he remembers correctly.) “Yes?”

“The door is open. Are you waiting for Sanghee?”

Hwanwoong tries not to look so surprised, but the instinctive widening of his eyes beat his consciousness to the punch. “O-oh! Yeah, I was. I didn’t know I was staring though, that’s rude of me.” He laughs nervously, ignoring the growing heat on his face. “Is that her boyfriend?”

“Yes!” She answers excitedly. “Doesn’t she look so happy? They’ve been together since Friday, she says.”

“Since Friday?” 

Huh. Maybe that day wasn’t so horrible for everyone after all. That was refreshing to hear.

Eunae motions Hwanwoong to follow her into the classroom when he breaks eye contact with her and continues, “She’s been pressured to find a boyfriend for a long time, is what she told me and Nana. Jiyoo too! And now that she has one, she won’t pick up her calls from us anymore.”

Hwanwoong frowns at the reminder of his own childhood friend’s relationship expectations. “Is finding a significant other all parents want from their children nowadays?”

Eunae shrugs. “Beats me. I live with my aunt and she doesn’t mind who I’m with. But I guess since we’re growing older, our parents are expecting grandchildren before  _ they _ get too old, if that makes sense.”

The dancer still doesn’t understand it, but who in his generation would, if children are still the farthest thing from their mind? Who would, if choosing their own love meant sacrificing having children in the first place?

Perhaps in due time, when he settles down with his own wife, he’ll understand. 

(Perhaps.)

“I guess so,” he answers quietly, heart sinking. “Anyway, thank you for catching me staring at them. I just hope she’s happy.”

The younger female hums in agreement, but she’s probably as lost as he is. “Yeah, me too.”

  
  


——

  
  


Monday passes into Tuesday, and completely opposite to the day prior, Hwanwoong is up and about early in the morning and stretching inside of the empty dance room.

Geonhak walks into the studio just ten minutes after Hwanwoong, and can’t help but smile as he sees the smaller male reach for his toes from his spot on the floor. “Good morning, Hwanwoong.”

Hwanwoong jumps out of his skin and almost screams, but thankfully he doesn’t, and thus saves his classmate from that same heart attack. “Good morning hyung!” 

The older male secures the door to his locker and joins Hwanwoong on the dance floor, extending his arms over his head and then around his torso. Before things get too awkward, Hwanwoong blurts out: 

“I spoke to Dongju! He says hi.”

Geonhak is confused at first, but a warm smile blooms onto his face, and the younger male is instantly enticed. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

Hwanwoong nods, quick to leap onto his feet (in a manner that, on an unlucky day, would pull a muscle). “He’s swamped with homework and his classes, but he really misses you.”

“Not that he’ll admit that to me,” the older dancer chuckles. “But you’re right, I know he does.”

Hwanwoong can’t help the wave of sadness that washes over him. “When was the last time you saw him?”

Geonhak slows his stretches and seemingly blanks out. “Um… it was in passing, but I think at the supermarket. He was shopping with his mom and twin brother.”

“When was that? Do you remember?”

Another pause. “... Last month.”

Yikes. If Hwanwoong was in a relationship, he doesn’t think he would be able to last that long not being able to see his significant other for such long periods of time. “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah.”

The air grows uncomfortable again, but Hwanwoong is led to believe it’s all in his head. Geonhak is a gentle soul, and probably genuinely enjoys his company (if saying hi to him and joining him in stretches when he isn’t obligated to is considered “enjoying”), so why is Hwanwoong creating this strange energy by himself? Dongju is close to him, why can’t they be close, too? He and Dongju are a pair, after all.

“Hey, Geonhak! I have a question for you.” Hwanwoong beams. “Are you busy around Christmastime?”

His classmate rolls his shoulders after rising from the floor. “Aside from… aside from my operation, and finals too… I don’t think so.”

“Good!” The shorter male exclaims, skipping to him. “I’m inviting you to a Christmas party at my house after the holiday. Or is it before…?” His excitement dies down a bit as he ransacks his brain for the time and date, though he can’t remember if his mom ever gave him one. “Either way, I’m inviting Dongju too, so I hope you both can be there and be yourselves with us!”

Geonhak stares with a stunned expression on his face, and at first, Hwanwoong isn’t sure whether he should be proud or worried. “You want me to be there?”

“Of course!” He poses with his hands on his hips (which probably doesn’t seem very grand with his height, but oh well). “If you’re friends with Dongju, you’re friends with me, and you have yet to make it to a single party of mine.”

Geonhak snorts, probably still doubting he’s even offering right now. “Let me get this straight. You want  _ me,  _ the most annoyingly privileged person in the  _ entire _ school, there at your party?”

Hwanwoong frowns. “I don’t find you annoying or privileged, hyung. And yes! I want my friend named Kim Geonhak, the sophomore in my dance class who is engaged to my best friend Son Dongju, to be there.”

They’re silent again, but the energy is different this time. Geonhak studies Hwanwoong’s face curiously, and just before the shorter dancer breaks from the anxiety, he laughs. “I didn’t take you for the crazy kind. But I’d love to come.”

Hwanwoong’s frown flips 180 degrees instantly. “Alright! I’ll let my mom know. And I never wanna hear you talk so lowly about yourself again. That kind of talk is toxic food for your brain, and if you can’t get away with saying that around Dongju on a normal basis, it sure as heck won’t fly with me!”

Geonhak smirks. “Oh okay, I’m sorry. I guess you two really  _ are _ a lot alike, then.”

Hwanwoong shrugs. “What can I say other than we’re a packaged deal? He's still kind of a baby after all, isn't he?”

“That’s funny.” 

A few more classmates begin to trickle into the dance room, flooding the locker area and filling the air around them with indecipherable chatter. Hwanwoong watches as they unpack their belongings before he points at Geonhak to get his attention again. “We’ll talk more about this later. Wanna exchange numbers after class?”

Geonhak opens his mouth to say something, but his initial thought must have caught in his throat because it never leaves his tongue. He sighs softly and nods. “Yeah. And thank you, Hwanwoong.”

  
  


——

  
  


Wednesday is uneventful.

Well, almost uneventful.

  
  
  


**[From: Lee Hee Hyung] [Wed 3:34 PM]**

Woong, I’m leaving you in charge of my room

after I’m dead, you decide what goes where, just as long as my grandma’s jewelry goes to my sister

you’ve always been my best friend, and I’m glad we met accidentally joining the anime club instead of the academic one

  
  
  


Hwanwoong snorts. What a drama king. He absolutely  _ must _ know why Keonhee is dying today, considering it’s almost 4pm on a Wednesday.

  
  
  


**[To: Lee Hee Hyung] [3:38 PM]**

You okay?

  
  
  


Keonhee wastes no time replying.

  
  
  


**[From: Lee Hee Hyung] [3:39 PM]**

DO I SEEM OKAY TO YOU YEO HWANWOONG

I’M NOT OKAY NOR WILL I EVER BE AGAIN

NOT ONCE IN MY LIFE HAVE I PRACTICALLY BEEN CALLED LOWER THAN DIRT BY MY HOT AS BALLS TUTOR AND LOVED EVERY DAMN SECOND OF IT

DOES THIS MAKE ME A MASOCHIST OR AM I JUST A LOST CAUSE?? 

  
  
  


Hwanwoong’s face hurts from smiling so hard.

  
  
  


**[To: Lee Hee Hyung] [3:40 PM]**

You’re definitely a masochist, but idk about a lost cause

Is he mad?

  
  
  


**[From: Lee Hee Hyung] [3:40 PM]**

he’s PISSED

mostly because he already had a hard time drilling the info in me for this particular lesson lol

but I’m still gonna die

  
  
  


**[To: Lee Hee Hyung] [3:45 PM]**

rip then, hyung

You were my best friend too

I’ll let everyone know how amazing you were and let your tutor know you give him your blessing for his future wife/husband/whatever

  
  
  


Keonhee wasn’t too happy with the response when he was finally able to answer him back.

  
  
  


**[From: Lee Hee Hyung] [4:12 PM]**

nvm about the best friend part, I hope you stay single forever until you meet The One bc I’m not a traitorous jerk like you >:(((

  
  
  


Rude.

Hwanwoong plugs his phone into the charger before getting up from his bed to clean his room. He’d been procrastinating the spring cleaning long enough now, and chances are, he won’t have a chance to see Keonhee (or what remains of him) until later that night.

Maybe  _ he _ should be the one to treat Keonhee after the beating he’s getting… 

He sighs. He’s too nice sometimes.

  
  


——

  
  


Thursdays are usually always a “lather, rinse, repeat” of Tuesdays.

But instead, Geonhak is reviewing the choreography he learned for the December recital with Hwanwoong. They danced away from the rest of the class, since many students were able to catch on that there was an understudy from the  _ first _ years of all groups of students to shine onstage, and their poking and prodding for info proved distracting, at best. It didn’t bother Hwanwoong too much since he was as excited as a lot of them seemed, but Geonhak was uncomfortable. Hwanwoong only wondered why for a second before he could hear a few girls spit nasty comments like “oh good, he’s finally been sidelined,” and “wow, I wonder what having to teach someone else did to his ego.”

Had Geonhak hesitated for a moment longer, Hwanwoong would have put them in their place and directed them to explain themselves to their instructor. But the older dancer caught Hwanwoong’s wrist in time, ignored his protests, and whispered, “It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Hwanwoong feels bitter. It doesn’t bother him  _ anymore _ ? But it did once, at least, and he knows in his heart what Geonhak said was a lie, but if the older male didn’t want to do anything about it, Hwanwoong couldn’t, either. Who was he to disrespect him, too?

“Give me a second, okay?” The first year relents, gently pulling his hand free from Geonhak’s and reaching for his phone. He unlocks it and scrolls through his contacts, picking a name from the list and holding a button to record his voice. “Hey Dongju…”

Geonhak’s eyes widen when he realizes what Hwanwoong is doing and immediately tries to speak over him, but Hwanwoong is swiftly walking out of his range when he sends his audio message.

“Can you please tell Geonhak hyung that he’s a hardworking and talented dancer that doesn’t need his peers’ validation to succeed? He’s beating himself up over nasty words from our classmates again, I just know it.”

Geonhak is frozen in place now, and Hwanwoong can’t help but cackle out loud, earning the attention from nearby students. The sophomore finally exhales the breath his petrified lungs held, frustratingly rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Ugh… what did I get myself into, being friends with you like this…”

Hwanwoong almost giggles. Seeing this flustered side of Geonhak is so refreshing, he doesn’t understand why so many people are so afraid to approach him. If only his classmates would just take the time to get to know him, they’d see he wasn’t just the labels they plastered onto him. But maybe in due time they’ll see it, and until then, Hwanwoong is happy to be his only friend in his dance class.

At least the annoying younger brother kind of friend.

His phone rings once with a new notification. Dongju answered him pretty quickly, much to Hwanwoong’s delight (and Geonhak’s dismay). He wasted no time playing the audio out loud:

  
  


_ “You have my permission to bite his arm.” _

  
  


Hwanwoong raises a brow. What on earth does that mean? Why would he want to bite Geonhak, and what would that even do?

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” the older male apologizes, his panic taking the younger by surprise. “I’ll stop, just please don’t hurt me. His teeth are painful, and I never want to learn if you bite harder than he does.”

Hwanwoong snorts back a laugh. “Wow. That worked better than I expected.” He flashes his dance tutor a smug smile. “You can let me worry about you too, you know. So please don’t lie to me next time.”

His new friend nods his head, almost sweating. “Lesson learned.”

  
  


——

  
  


When Friday arrives, so does the school’s football game.

Hwanwoong won’t say he’s big into sports, and neither would Keonhee, but mutual classmates of theirs in high school made the junior varsity team and asked them both to attend every game of theirs when they graduated. Both answered with an enthusiastic “yes.” And after Keonhee escaped his tutoring session by the skin of his teeth at exactly 6PM, he had burst into the crowd of students flocking around the concession stands and bleachers to look for his friends, or at least his roommate.

Hwanwoong’s phone buzzed away in his pocket just as he found his seat next to his physics health classmates.

“Oh. Hang on a sec,” he cuts his conversation with his seatmate short with a quick apology, “I think my friend is calling me.”

His friend, Insik, takes a sip of his soda as he wraps an arm around his girl. “Your girlfriend?”

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes. “Sure. My roommate _ does  _ like dresses, I guess. Not sure if that counts, though.”

Insik’s girlfriend Jia is enjoying a piece of cotton candy beside her significant other, running the cutely decorated nails of her clean hand through her long hair. “Atta boy! Break those gender roles!”

With this particular crowd, Hwanwoong is informed almost daily that his male friends have a running bet on whether or not he’s hiding a secret lover from the world, because there is no way in hell a guy as popular and charming as he is hasn’t been asked out at least once. And they’re somewhat right; but the few times a lovely girl had gathered enough courage to confess her feelings to him have all ended with their hearts broken. 

The reason for that is simple: Hwanwoong is gay. 

However, no one needs to know that right now. He was sure his friends wouldn’t mind the truth, since a few keen ones (like said male friends’ girlfriends) had most likely put the pieces together already, but he was a little too afraid of how the rest of the world would react. So he kept it to himself and settled with the reality that he would have to face as a result, which included being harassed over and over about his pretend significant other’s whereabouts.

His male peer adjusts his glasses with a cheeky grin. “She needs you, Woong. Answer already.”

“Sure,” he answers nonchalantly, picking up the call. “Hey hyung, you’re on speaker. Say hi.”

A male voice forces the smirk on his friend’s face to fall. (Boy did that feel good to watch.)  _ “Hey Woong, where are you?” _

Hwanwoong is wearing a shit eating grin. “I’m waiting for you on the bleachers,  _ baby.”  _ He hears groaning on the other end and howls with laughter, fueled by the perplexed looks on his friends faces.

_ “Call me baby one more time and I’m putting you in your grave early,”  _ Keonhee warns him. He pauses for a moment, just long enough to catch a breath.  _ “I don’t see you. Are you closer to the concessions or farther away?” _

“We’re farther away this time,” Hwanwoong replies, drinking his soda. “We sat elsewhere just so we could get a better look at the scoreboard. Do you want me to come get you?” 

_ “No, It’s okay. I don’t want you to get up. Just hang tight and I’ll find you.” _

Hwanwoong’s chewed straw picks up what’s left of his Sprite until he’s drinking nothing but air. “You know what hyung, just meet me down there. I’m gonna run to the concessions for a refill of my soda.”

Keonhee huffs, but not from frustration.  _ “Sure thing, Woong, I’ll wait.” _

Hwanwoong ends the call and slips his phone back into his pants, smirking at his friends. “Isn’t my girlfriend nice?”

Insik scoffs. “I swear you’ve got someone you’re seeing, Hwanwoong-ssi. I saw you walking with a girl earlier this week.”

The dancer shrugs and stands up. “It might have been my classmate or something. I really don’t have a girlfriend yet.”

Jia reaches for another piece of cotton candy, but decides it isn’t enough, and takes the entire stick from her boyfriend. “I’m sure you just haven’t found the one yet. My sister is the same way; she’s demisexual, so she can only be with someone she’s close to.” She extends her candy to Hwanwoong with a smile. “You’ll know when you’ve found them someday.”

Hwanwoong grins and eagerly breaks a chunk off. “Thanks, noona. Anyway, I’ll be back.”

His ears barely pick up Jia’s threat as he walks away; “Next time you bother him like that, if he really ends up with someone and you win that bet, you’re paying for your own damn hot dogs and candy.”

He can’t help but greatly appreciate how unique and down to earth his friends from America are. They’re far more casual (and maybe a bit more embarrassing) than most couples he knows, and they’re fun and silly to watch on most occasions. The dancer thinks to himself as he descends the steps in a hurry,  _ what if me and my future boyfriend are a lot like this? Would we fight a lot? Or would it be fun? And what would our married life look like?  _

If he doesn’t stop those strange thoughts now, he’s gonna blow a head gasket.

There are still a ton of people around the bottom of the bleachers and by the ramp towards the concessions, and Hwanwoong is successful weaving through the bodies without knocking into anyone at first. Keonhee must have moved someplace away from the crowd and further towards the lines, he quickly realizes, when there are just too many people to avoid crashing into. 

“Hwanwoong! Over here!”

Just as he thought, his best friend is standing in line for food and waving to him. Thank goodness he’s a beanpole; he was easy to spot right away.

(If he dares to mention anything about Hwanwoong’s height not helping his visibility, he will send him to the hospital for his kneecaps.)

The dancer finally emerges from the sea of bodies and catches up to him. “Hey Keonhee! How’s it going?”

“I’m great, barely alive but I’m still here,” he chirps. “Seoho gave up trying to drill anything into my head in our last twenty minutes and let me go early.”

Hwanwoong gasps playfully, “Wow, really? Not twenty minutes!”

Keonhee is obviously proud. “Yup. A whole two-zero minutes. I was too excited to get here that I just wasn’t paying attention to anything he was telling me anymore.”

The dancer moves along in the line as the number of people in front of them begins to shrink. “Don’t blame the game! You just have too much of a crush on him to ever want to listen.”

“You say that any louder and I swear he’ll hear you from here,” he says pointedly.

“Good! It’s about time you say something,” Hwanwoong jokes. The liveliness in their conversation dies, mostly because Hwanwoong is gauging how much time it would be before they could grab their food and drinks. “There are still a lot of people in front of us. Want me to pay for our stuff and I’ll bring it to you?”

Keonhee raises a brow. “You sure you’re gonna be able to carry everything? I wanna order a lot of stuff.”

Hwanwoong huffs. “I’m not gonna buy you the whole store’s stock our first time around. How about you choose something you really want now, and I’ll come back to buy more later?”

****The older male sighs dejectedly. “Fine. Thanks though.” He steps out of the line, but before emerging into the crowd by the ramp, he turns back around. “Can you get me two slices of pizza and a soda?”

Hwanwoong nods. “What flavor?”

“Surprise me. Thanks!”

And just like that, Keonhee vanishes into the mob. It’s somewhat funny losing him that quickly, considering his gifted height is one of his most distinctive factors. Hwanwoong eyes stop following along in mere seconds, and he tries to count the number of people ahead of him instead.

26, he counts, not including the friends a handful of them are with.

Well, it’s safe to say it’ll probably take him closer to a half hour to reach the front of the line. Good thing he’d charged his earbuds before he left the dorm.

  
  


He’s gotten what he needed a little over forty minutes later, hands struggling to hold two slices of pepperoni pizza, two bags of chips, and three cans of Sprite (one already opened for his immediate enjoyment). Thankfully the size of the crowd had shrunk for the most part, and it was easier for people to determine a comfortable flow of traffic on and off the bleachers, so Hwanwoong wasn’t too scared of dropping anything. Just as long as the pizza was safe, that’s all that mattered.

The announcements blaring over his head of the kickoff made him realize just how much time had passed since he’d first stood in line. He couldn’t be too mad at missing the very start of the game, because what would a game be without the appropriate amount of snacks and refreshments?

Absolutely nothing.

Just as he was musing to himself how grateful he was at how calm the steps to the bleachers were, his brain registers a sharp pain on his arm and shoulder and his hand loses its grip on his open soda can. He had collided into a man rummaging through an open book bag, and at the same time the soda splashed onto the cement floor did a cascade of envelopes and papers drop straight into the sugary puddle. 

Hwanwoong’s breath hitches in his throat at the pain and subsequent spill, eyes widening in horror. “Oh! Oh shit, sorry! I’m-I’m so sorry!”

The man is also staring at the mess, but surprisingly with far less panic than the dancer. “Ah—”

“Here, let me help!” Hwanwoong offers, swiftly bending down and collecting the papers. He sets aside those that were damaged by the Sprite and protects those that managed to avoid it, pretty fonts and colored inks on the envelopes just noticeable enough to catch his eye. They looked like love letters, he thinks to himself, setting aside the closed cans in his arms to help clean up faster.

The other male kneels next to him and begins to clean with him, muttering a small “thanks” as his fingers gather the stray pages.

“No no, it’s okay,” Hwanwoong assures, “it was my fault.” He sets the half emptied can as far away from the papers as possible and picks up a plastic card, the one thing that stood out from the rest of the belongings that fell. It’s a student ID for this university, and it, too, was just a hair away from getting wet.

_ Kim Youngjo,  _ the name on it read.

Wait a moment. 

He has seen this face before.

Oh Lord. He  _ knows _ this face.

He’s sporting a deer in the headlights look as the student named Youngjo picks up each neat pile of papers. He discreetly slips the ID in the stack of envelopes just as the other gathers that too, and before he knows it, the mess is clean (save the spill of course) and they’re back on their feet.

Sanghee’s boyfriend flashes him a sad smile. “Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry about your soda.”

Hwanwoong swears to himself his face is not on fire, sputtering, “It’s-it’s okay! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, it’s my fault. I should be apologizing for damaging actual papers of yours.”

Youngjo laughs. “It’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry.” Hwanwoong is cursing that winsome smile of his. “Can I buy you a new soda?”

The dancer is even more flustered now. “I’m fine! I have an extra for myself anyway! But thank you!”

The other male nods, waving to him as he walks away. “Alright then. See you later.”

Hwanwoong dumbly waves back, cursing at himself in his head during the entire exchange. He’s such an idiot, developing a massive crush on a taken man. But damn it, he’s just _too_ handsome for his own good. He’d give anything to purge the thought of seeing him again from his mind. Not only is he already _with_ someone, it’s with someone Hwanwoong _knows_. And if by some chance he wasn’t in a relationship with his classmate, there were so many other girls already sending him letters if that stack of his was anything to go by.

And he’s  _ straight.  _ He can’t forget  _ that _ lovely detail.

Feeling defeated, he sighs and gathers the food and sodas again, picking up the opened one beside him. Well, it’s not like he could throw it away; there’s still too much soda left in there. He carries it with him as he ascends the bleachers, retracing his steps back to his group of friends entranced by the game going on below them. Keonhee barely registers Hwanwoong’s arrival until he practically shoves the pizza in his face.

“Oh, thanks Woong.” He takes the plate and peels his eyes away long enough to examine his friend. “Are you okay?”

Hwanwoong takes his seat with a moan, setting everything else in his hands in between their seats. “Almost.”

Keonhee arches a brow. “You’re  _ almost _ okay?”

“Yeah, just bumped into someone and lost over half of my soda,” he admits, deciding to withhold the real reason behind his exhausted posture. “That’s like two dollars gone and one extra trip added.”

His roommate winces. “Ouch. Sorry buddy.” He pats the dancer’s back comfortingly. “Hey, don’t be sad. I’ll buy you another one during halftime, how does that sound?”

Hwanwoong can’t stop himself from chuckling. It’s cute to see how much effort his friend is putting in to make him smile despite the soda being the most trivial reason in the world to be sad. (Not that he's even sad in the first place, of course; just flustered.)

“Thanks hyung. I’m gonna hold you to it.”

Keonhee huffs. “I mean yeah, I still owe you $50 after all.” 

  
  


Hwanwoong is unable to sleep that night. He’s at his mother’s house this time, nestled comfortably in between the stuffed animals and fighting for space on the bed, and yet he can’t fall asleep no matter how hard he tries. As long as the image of that disgustingly adorable smile continues to plague his thoughts, he won’t be able to drift off.

The next thing he sees is the clock strike twelve. It is now Saturday in its earliest moment.

Time to start the week back over again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m always down to yell about rawoong and oneus in general on my twt and cc _(:3 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwanwoong shouldn't get involved, not with so many red flags waving that highly in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I forgot to mention!! Thank you to those who left the sweet comments for me! They really mean the world to me and give me the strength to continue writing! I hope you stick around for Love Raffle’s future! 
> 
> Without further ado, here is chapter 4!

It’s not that Hwanwoong lamented every waking hour at his mother’s house this past weekend, no. It wasn’t that at all. But he was absolutely grateful when Monday came back around and brought the first school week of October with it, because he didn’t know if he could go another day being alone with his thoughts the way he had been.

Yes, it took him all weekend to finally process what happened Friday night and (somewhat) effectively deal with it.

Like usual, Hwanwoong is waiting for his Nutritional Health class to begin, headphones in his ears and playing the same comfortable ballads he loves to hear so much. He heard them most when he danced; it put his mind at ease and let him step outside of himself, but he felt the need to listen to that playlist now more than ever.

What was happening to him?

Anyway, some of his classmates are arriving later than usual, he noticed, when the only face he could recognize at the moment was Eunae. Nana and Sanghee were nowhere to be found, when they were always the first to camp outside the classroom with their breakfast and cellphones. 

“Eunae-noona,” he called out to her, pulling an earbud out to listen to himself talk. “Do you know where everyone else is?”

Eunae is puzzled too. “Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t seen them all morning.”

That’s weird, but maybe it shouldn’t be; there are millions of reasons why they wouldn’t be here right now, but the unfamiliarity just has him thrown off. Perhaps a tad worried, too, considering their class was starting in less than five minutes.

“I hope they can make it today, we have a quiz in the later half of class,” the dancer continues with a sigh. “I’m not sure how they’ll make up the missing grade with only two months left of the semester.”

“Me neither, but maybe something just made them run a little late.” His older classmate shrugs, pulling her phone out. “Stuff like this can happen all the time.”

She’s right. He doesn’t know why he’s so uptight about it. He nods to himself, and before the conversation gets awkward, he’s slipping the earbud back on.

“Oh, Hwanwoong,” he watches her lips formulate his name. Her voice is drowning in the music, so he quickly pauses the song and pulls the buds out again. “I found Sanghee! She’s coming down the hallway.”

The younger male sighs in relief when he hears her good news. He shoves his earbuds into his pocket and turns around to greet his classmate. “Good morning, sunbaenim!”

Sanghee waves to the two of them with a wide smile, but something seems off about her expression. (It doesn’t match her eyes.) “Good morning! I hope you two were able to get good sleep for the test.”

Eunae nods with a wide grin. “I did. What about you, Sanghee?”

She pauses, a little too long for anyone’s liking. Hwanwoong’s smile falters, but he isn’t the only one who develops a quiet sense of dread. He can somewhat see why her somber eyes betray her smile, but it wasn’t until she opened her mouth again did he piece together why.

“Ah… no, not really. You see, I… I broke up with my boyfriend.”

Hwanwoong physically feels his heart stop. Words bubble in his chest but don’t quite reach the surface, but his instinct was to take her hands in his and comfort her, even as his mind conjures up that sickly sweet smile of the man who broke her heart, the person he thought could do no wrong.

“No way! Sanghee,” his classmate embraced her first, thankfully not so shocked that she was rendered speechless. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry this happened, I know how much this meant to you...”

Hwanwoong swallows first before finally speaking, “Noona, if there’s anything we can do…”

The classroom door swings open, but they don’t register anything until another student taps on Hwanwoong’s shoulder and motions towards the entrance. “Hey, we’re going inside now.”

The dancer almost bites his tongue trying to answer quickly, “Oh, yes, thank you! We’ll be right in.”

Sanghee laughs softly and holds a sleeve to her glassy eye before a tear could run down her cheek, not wanting to ruin her makeup. “It’s okay guys, let’s go. If I’m honest, it was only temporary anyway.”

Hwanwoong frowned. “Temporary? You didn’t want anything long term with him?”

“Maybe someday I would, but I really just wanted to bring someone to my aunt’s wedding so that my family would stop nagging me about finding a future husband.” She is somehow still smiling throughout her explanation, but the idea of the two of them mutually cutting off their relationship helped Hwanwoong feel a tad better about it. “Ravn sunbaenim was the perfect person to ask for help, and he called me just in time before the wedding, so I used him…”

_ Raven? _ Hwanwoong is puzzled. His name isn’t Youngjo, then? Perhaps it was a nickname of his.

Eunae seems as equally perplexed as he is, but she’s more proactive on the questions, so she fires the queries one right after the other while he listens intently (since he can’t have it on his conscience that he actively tried prying into her failed love life to obtain information about her ex).  _ “You  _ used  _ him?” _

She nods. “He wasn’t looking for anything serious was what he told me. I thought it was perfect, since I didn’t want to be with anyone right now either.” She shyly rubs the back of her neck. “... But I guess I kind of fell for him anyway.”

Hwanwoong finally pushes all other disruptive thoughts aside. “I bet it still hurts, even though you don’t want to let it.”

“Yeah! Funny, right? Anyway, we should go inside.” She nudges both of her classmates along. “Thank you for being here, I’ll be fine soon. Let’s just get through that test, okay?”

Hwanwoong grins. “Okay. Oh, and if you want some snacks after the test, I brought some cookies from my mom’s house. We had too much left over.”

Eunae whines, “No, I’m trying  _ not _ to eat so much sugar anymore! Why did you say that cursed word, Hwanwoong?”

He snickers, happy to see his older classmates smiling and laughing genuinely. 

The sound of feet skidding on the tile floor captures Hwanwoong’s attention, and he’s met with Nana’s approaching figure almost running straight into him. “Hi Hwanwoong-ssi! Good morning! Am I late?”

Oh good, she made it after all. He beams, “No, you’re okay!”

“Of course!” She is struggling to catch her breath, holding her hand to her chest as though she could will her heart to calm down. “I was with my boyfriend and lost track of time…”

Hwanwoong blinks, “Ah, I see.” His other classmates had carried on inside without him, Nana’s hand gently clasping onto Hwanwoong’s shoulder to stop him. “... Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know…” She’s hesitant to answer. Her voice drops in pitch but softens, “is Sanghee-unnie upset at me?”

What a weird question. “Did you get in a fight?”

Nana shakes her head. “No… but I’m dating her ex.”

…  _ Wow.  _

So… not only is Sanghee heartbroken and seemingly at odds with her best friend (according to Nana)... but this guy is  _ okay _ jumping from girl to girl in the same friend group?

Hwanwoong doesn’t really know what to think, except that he really shouldn’t get involved in this mess.

(But he’s going to because these are his friends and this guy is hot, of course.)

“Her relationship was temporary. That was what she told me.” Nana frowns, voice brought to a whisper as they enter the classroom. “But Ravn-sunbaenim told me she developed feelings for him somewhere along the way and had a hard time with herself when they let go.”

Hwanwoong stares at her. “When did they break up?”

“The same day we got together; Friday.”

The dancer processes the information much slower than he’d like. He doesn’t know how to help them, considering it’s a mess their own actions got themselves into. Using people even in temporary relationships and dating a friend’s ex isn’t something he can point out to them and claim was the problem, since they were adults and these were the decisions they felt justified to make.

But then, what  _ does _ he say to them?

Thankfully she sits in front of him, so his answer reaches her on a paper after the exam they take:

_ “Ask her how she feels. You don’t have to play a guessing game with her if you don’t want to.” _

  
  


Her reply returns on the same paper a minute later:

_ “You’re right. I will.” _

  
  


Keonhee is leaning against the wall near the window of the classroom when Hwanwoong steps outside. “Hey Woong. How’d you do on the test?”

The dancer waves at him when they approach each other. “Hey! Not too bad, I don’t think. I did have a lot on my mind, though, so I might’ve done worse than I normally would have.”

His friend blinks. “Something up?”

“Yeah. I know it’s not my business,” he sighs, beginning to walk down the hall with him, “but my friends are having relationship issues with their boyfriends.”

Keonhee understands right away. “Ah. Yeah, I get that. My friend had issues with her ex like two weeks ago, so I know where they’re coming from.”

Hwanwoong pauses for a moment as the words sink in. That’s right; she, too, was in a temporary relationship.

By some off chance, could the boyfriend in question be the same guy?

“Hey, Keonhee,” Hwanwoong looks at him. “I have to ask… was your friend’s ex, the guy… does he go by Raven?”

Keonhee’s eyes widen, staring back. “Oh shit, is  _ that  _ who your friend dated? That  _ Ravn  _ jerk?”

Hwanwoong nods. “Yeah. He dated one of my friends and then is dating another one this week.”

The taller male is groaning now, and Hwanwoong deems his theory correct. “Awesome, so he’s still having flings with people. That’s good to know.”

“Flings? So he’s not really  _ going out  _ with anyone?”

“Look, Woong, I really don’t want to talk about this guy. He doesn’t deserve anyone’s attention… not for the crap he’s constantly putting girls through.” Keonhee leads the way back to their dorm. “Just know that he’s not a very good person, okay?”

Hwanwoong bites his tongue. That’s still not enough information for him, but maybe he’d just have to get it another way. 

Even if they were just flings, Sanghee (and perhaps Nana) knew he wanted to keep things temporary; she said so herself he wasn’t looking for anything serious. So was it quite really his fault?

The dancer walked into this situation curious and emerged even more curious.

——

Geonhak almost does a double take when Hwanwoong steps into the dance room. “Hey Hwanwoong, what are you doing here today? It’s Monday.”

The shorter male shrugs, sporting his comfortable workout clothes. Upon arriving at the dorm, Keonhee had suddenly recalled he had left his textbook behind in math class and was going to retrieve it oh so conveniently at the same time his tutor Seoho’s class would be, and told Hwanwoong ahead of time that he’d be sitting in on it to watch and help him understand the material better.

Hwanwoong almost made himself dizzy with how hard his eyes rolled. He didn’t buy Keonhee’s lie for one second.

But Keonhee went anyway, and with nothing else going on for him for the day, Hwanwoong decided it would be best to spend his otherwise wasted time in the most productive way he knew how.

By dancing.

So here he was now, standing in front of his classmate and shoving his thoughts of everything that morning to the back of his mind. Including Youngjo, whose face and voice were almost a hair away from becoming an albatross around his neck.

“I actually needed some help remembering what you taught me last week,” he lied. When Geonhak didn’t seem convinced, he tried again. “I also want someplace else to be than in my head right now.”

The older dancer arched a brow. “Now  _ that _ I believe more. You’re too brilliant of a dancer to forget choreography so easily.”

Hwanwoong puffs his cheeks out, trying not to let himself get flustered at the compliment. How sweet of him, despite the slight trouble his distrust in the comment gave Hwanwoong. 

Geonhak scratches the back of his neck nervously. “And hey. I may not have many friends, or be good at helping anyone, but… if you want to talk to me about anything, I’m happy to listen.”

Hwanwoong is  _ not _ going to let anyone, especially Dongju, call him a boyfriend stealer. 

(Not for Geonhak in this story, he won’t.)

But what would you do when this kind and perfect man shows his most vulnerable side to you?

Hwanwoong’s answer: cry.

Geonhak’s eyes widen at the emergence of tears on Hwanwoong’s face. “Hey! Don’t cry, I mean— you can cry if you need to, but please don’t bottle it up. You’ll get sick…”

The shorter dancer quickly wipes the stray tear with a laugh. “I’m okay, Geonhak. Thank you. I’m just…” he sniffles, “… Dongju’s and your biggest fan.”

The older male is still frowning, but he wasn’t expecting that kind of answer. “What?”

Time to channel his inner Keonhee. Thankfully no one else is in the room. He drops to the floor dramatically, in a way similar to his roommate when he despairs over his love interest, and sobs, “I was supposed to turn to you for support, but when you’re kind to me like this, I have to protect you the way I do for Dongju…! Ah, what’s a young, handsome, and tall third wheel to do?”

He doesn’t get an immediate answer, but he can point out exactly when the older dancer gets antsy. “... I’m guessing that’s not open for discussion?”

Hwanwoong laughs and gets back up. “Precisely. Anyway, I think I just want to dance and forget about things right now. Can we?”

At first glance, Geonhak seems grateful the exchange is over, but in reality (not quite known to Hwanwoong), he’s just happy the younger dancer is still in high spirits. “Sure. After you.”

“Thanks. And, um…” Hwanwoong is standing next to him when his train of thought halts his footsteps, “... will you really be there to listen if I need you?”

“Of course.” The answer comes without hesitation. “We’re friends, after all.”

  
  


Hwanwoong answers the most recent phone call after about an hour of practicing their choreography, when his legs hurt too much to move. “Hey Keonhee, what’s up?”

_ “Are you at your dance class overexerting yourself again?” _

Hwanwoong pauses. “... No?”

Keonhee sighs.  _ “Okay then. Are you answering no to being at the classroom or to overexerting yourself?”  _

The dancer glances over to Geonhak, who is almost drowning in water. “The overexertion. I might have pulled a muscle, but that’s about it.”

_ “That counts, Woong!”  _ There’s a pause dedicated to any response Hwanwoong may have to the scolding, but since none comes Keonhee’s way, he goes on.  _ “I’ll meet up with you, yeah? We’re almost out of groceries, so I was gonna go to the store, but since you were already out, I figured we could get stuff together. I think it’d be better just to go home and worry about it tomorrow.” _

Ah damn. He forgot about their short supply of food. He whines and sprawls onto the floor, not noticing Geonhak taking a seat beside him as he puts Keonhee on speaker. “I don’t want to worry about it tomorrow, my leg will only hurt worse after class. I can help today.”

He can practically see the stern expression on Keonhee’s face.  _ “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be bedridden when we get home, watch.” _

“Then what’s your bright idea for food today?” The younger dancer asks. 

Of course the other has no clue.  _ “I dunno. I’m open to suggestions.” _

Geonhak clears his throat, earning Hwanwoong’s attention. “If it’s a matter of heavy lifting or… just lifting in general, I can help you guys shop.”

Hwanwoong’s words catch in his throat, excited at the thought of formally introducing Keonhee to Geonhak. “Really? Are you sure you want to?”

Geonhak nods, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to meet all of Dongju’s friends.”

Good! That includes Keonhee in the mix. Hwanwoong’s cheeks can barely hold his smile. “Okay! You’ll love Keonhee-hyung’s company, I’m sure of it!”

_ “Who am I meeting?”  _ Keonhee’s voice drips with confusion on the other end.

Hwanwoong sits up. “Dongju’s fiancé! It’s a meeting long in the making!”

  
  


It’s awkward at first, when they make eye contact.

“Keonhee, right? Hi, I’m Geonhak.”

The extended hand is timid. Anybody watching this scene would wonder if it was taking all of Geonhak’s willpower to maintain eye contact with the underclassman. Hwanwoong sure is. But they’re standing in front of each other, with one carrying textbooks and a bag over his shoulders, and the other drenched in sweat from the workouts.

Keonhee examines Geonhak carefully, but doesn’t let the air get too uncomfortable, and warmly shakes the older male’s hand with a grin. “Hi Geonhak. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Hwanwoong swallows down an excited scream.

(He knows Dongju won’t be able to.)

Keonhee tucks his textbook under his arm. “You’re a sophomore, right? Are you good at math, by any chance?”

Geonhak shrugs. “I used to be, but that was because I had a very good tutor helping me out when I was struggling.”

Keonhee chuckles bashfully. “Ah, thats awesome! I have a tutor too, but I’m always distracted, so his help always goes to waste.” He looks around for a moment, and before the other two can start guessing why, he drops a question just above a whisper: “Was it Seoho? Your tutor?”

Of course he asks that. Hwanwoong groans, and Keonhee playfully smacks his arm.

The eldest male hums in affirmation. “Yeah. You have him too? He’s a busy guy and was sometimes hard to follow, but he’s crazy smart.”

Keonhee’s laughing nervously now, and Hwanwoong spots pink dusting his cheeks. “Aha, yeah… busy with his girlfriend, right?”

“With work,” the sophomore corrects. “He has three jobs aside from school, if I remember correctly.”

Hwanwoong’s jaw drops. He can’t even begin to imagine the exhaustion that must warrant him. “That’s insane…”

Geonhak walks out of the building first, and motions towards the parking lot as he continues talking. “I admire people who work hard despite always being tired or sick. Dongju is a lot like that too. He’s at the top of his class, last he told me.”

Hwanwoong and Keonhee perk up at their youngest friend’s name. Hwanwoong exclaims, “That’s so cool! You heard from him, too?”

“Yeah. Just this past weekend.” The older dancer is smiling fondly (while Hwanwoong smacks Keonhee’s shoulder and tells him to look). “When he’s on his fall break from school, we’re meeting up and doing something fun.”

Hwanwoong rubs his tense throat as he fights back another urge to cry. Keonhee accidentally sobs once.

Geonhak’s head spins, and he proceeds to freak out at their tears. “Wh-what’s wrong? Why are you  _ both _ crying? Is-is it something I said?”

“Yes,” Keonhee blurts out, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. “Don’t talk to me, hyung! You made me emotional!”

Geonhak is speechless for a solid five seconds before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Jeez, you both are so overdramatic.”

Hwanwoong gasps, pretending to be offended. “How rude, hyung! I am not overdramatic! Just Keonhee is.”

Keonhee shoots Hwanwoong a look. “Am not! I’m just sensitive!”

Geonhak’s voice falls flat, but he can’t hide the amused expression on his face. “Let’s just go.”

Hwanwoong reaches for his phone in his pocket, but his palm meets nothing but fabric. His stomach instantly drops, and he stares back up at his friends. “Oh shoot, my phone! I left it in the dance room!”

Keonhee frowns. “Seriously? We have to go all the way back?”

The shorter dancer scoffs. “Just me, you dork. I have a pulled muscle, not a broken leg. I can walk by myself.”

Geonhak is next to speak, “Then should we wait for you here? Or should I pull the car up front?”

“You can bring it up if you want! I won’t be long.” And with that he takes off in the direction they came from, careful not to aggravate the muscle that throbs the most.

(He swears he can hear Keonhee teasing Geonhak with a question that sounds a lot like  _ “Wanna be best friends?”  _ It’s cute.)

  
  


His cellphone sat right where he left it; safe and secure behind his sealed locker. 

Hwanwoong takes it into his hands, heaving a sigh of relief. He knew it would be there, but something about being able to assure its presence in his pocket sat better with him.

The classroom is eerily quiet. There were usually other students that occupied its space any given time of the day, but today it was dead silent and empty. Not even the two instructors that made second homes out of their office were present today. When it was just Geonhak and Hwanwoong, the younger dancer was comfortable. But now it’s too creepy, and he didn’t think he wanted to deal with any jumpscares by any random visitors right now.

Hwanwoong shuts the locker again and twists the knob, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Once he’s out of the classroom, he flips the switch to cut the lights and closes the door behind him, ready to walk back down the hallways again until he’s greeted by two familiar faces approaching him with linked arms.

It’s Nana and  _ Raven,  _ or Youngjo.

(He’s comfortable calling him by the name he recalls on the ID. It suits his pretty features much better.)

They don’t notice him as they walk past the classroom, both of their gazes on their feet as they converse quietly among themselves. Nana seems to be content, wrapped comfortably around Youngjo’s arm, while the male beside her wears an unreadable expression and seems fascinated with their footwork. 

Hwanwoong realizes he’s staring and breaks his eyes away, ready to start his own trek to his company right as his ears pick up the couple’s words.

The only thing he caught from Youngjo’s lips is “... can’t do anything past Friday, remember?” 

And Nana’s response: “I know.”

The dancer’s mind spins again, remembering everything he’d learned so far. The first time Youngjo’s existence was made known to Hwanwoong was when Keonhee’s friend dated him, and called Keonhee when their relationship ended on a Friday. That same Friday must have been when Sanghee began going out with him, because that was when she went M.I.A. and was impossible to reach for their essay. And just this morning, Nana confirmed to Hwanwoong she started dating Youngjo the same day he ended things with Sanghee.

On a Friday. And now their cut off day is this  _ coming _ Friday.

Is that what Youngjo does? Date a new girl every week?

What on  _ earth? _

He’s suddenly overcome with the urge to call out to them, to say something, because if he doesn’t do anything now, he’ll regret it for one reason or another.

He stops walking and does a 180 before yelling, “Hey, Nana!”

The pair stops in their tracks as well and turns to face him, and Hwanwoong never thought he’d learn what it feels like to have his skin burn like it was on fire. His classmate’s face lights up when she sees him and she waves. “Oh, hi Hwanwoong! I didn’t see you there. I forgot you had dance class today!”

Hwanwoong is wearing a lopsided smile of his own as he copies her hand gestures, “It’s tomorrow, actually. I just forgot my phone. But hey— I wanted to ask you something!”

She tilts her head cutely. “Yeah?”

The dancer feels Youngjo’s gaze on him, and  _ holy shit, _ he thinks he’s going to melt into a puddle and deep through the cracks in the tile and sink straight down into the earth. He meets his eyes for a split second to avoid seeming like he was ignoring him (and oh God, his eyes are the most beautiful shade of brown he’d ever seen), and then yanks his focus back onto his classmate.

“Did you— did you want to be my partner for this coming project?” He clears his throat to stabilize his voice. “The one we’re getting assigned this Friday?”

(He gives her boyfriend one last look, and he’s  _ smiling _ at him. Someone better drag him out of there soon before he loses it.)

Nana didn’t seem prepared for a question like that, but she wasn’t one to say no, especially not after asking him to work together on a project the week prior. “That sounds like fun. Sure! I’ll text you tonight?”

Hwanwoong isn’t sure why he asked such a stupid and pointless question. She now seems to be expecting something different, and he’s got nothing to give her. “Yeah! That sounds good.”

Perhaps he should say something to her boyfriend too. 

He waves to him. Youngjo waves back with a chuckle.

(Great job, Hwanwoong. Best conversation starter  _ ever. _ )

His subconscious cry for help is answered, and right on cue, his phone vibrates with a new message.

  
  
  


**[From: Lee Hee Hyung] [Mon 4:36 PM]**

_ hey Woong, where are you? you coming back or not? _

_ I’m running out of things to talk to Geonhak about, so you better hurry _

  
  
  


That’s a first. Keonhee has never run out of things to discuss with anyone, being the most extroverted person he knows. He’s also never referred to Geonhak as  _ Geonhak _ until today; it had always been “Dongju’s fiancé” at best and “the art director’s solo star” at worst.

Hwanwoong glances back up at the couple. “Sorry, I gotta go. Thanks again, Nana! I’ll see you guys later?”

Nana giggles. “Okay. I’ll see you later, Hwanwoong!”

Her boyfriend waves again. “Bye.”

They resume their walk out of the building, and soon enough, they’re too far to hear their conversation aside from faint laughter. And while they could be exchanging words about something completely unrelated to Hwanwoong, the voices in his head are using their laughs as confirmation that they think he is the biggest idiot on the planet right now. He tosses his phone back in his pocket and runs his frustrated hands through his hair, groaning while he replays the scene in his head.

What could he have done differently? Not ask a question about class to his classmate who probably didn't want to worry about it? Actually greet Youngjo properly so he didn’t look as stupid as he sounded? Oh, and how about not actually say anything to them at all?

He could change so many things about it, except for the fact that it was all said and done and that he really can’t change anything at all. 

Next time, he assures, he won’t look like an idiot in front of them.

Next time, he promises himself, he won’t look like an idiot in front of Youngjo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me about rawoong/oneus!!
> 
> [twt](http://twitter.com/noxrequiem/) [cc](http://curiouscat.me/NoxRequiem/)  
> Thank you for reading! See you next Friday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is happening to Hwanwoong, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone!!

A week has passed, and sure enough, Nana and Youngjo broke up.

Hwanwoong saw it coming, and so did Nana. She didn’t seem as hurt about their split as her friend Sanghee did, but the dancer could tell she was crestfallen when they had briefly spoken about it during their project.

“It was only for a week,” she had told Hwanwoong when they divided their workload. “He makes it clear before you meet up with him.”

So then why waste seven long days and stay with someone you know would hurt you and would eventually find another woman to hold hands with? 

(He understands why, of course. He can’t ask such an insensitive question when he could and would very well be in their shoes if he was given that same chance.)

“That “Raven” guy is dating someone else, now,” the dancer nonchalantly mentions to his roommate as they walk away from his classroom. “My friend isn’t as upset about it like I thought she would be, but I can’t help but worry.”

Keonhee still wants no part of the discussion. “That’s great news. She deserves better. Now can we talk about something else?”

Hwanwoong feels the sting in his heart at the curt reply. “... Sure.”

He could understand why Keonhee is so adamant on ignoring the drama, but this cynicism is so uncharacteristic of him that Hwanwoong can’t help but admit his feelings are hurt.

However, just because Keonhee can easily go about life pretending Youngjo doesn’t exist doesn’t mean Hwanwoong can. Not when his heart performs flips and tricks within the walls of his chest every time he lays eyes on him.

It’s a different girl this time, and not within his circle of friends, so Hwanwoong has no prior attachment and, therefore, not as strong of a sense of impending doom. But the cycle will repeat itself, regardless of his own relationship with “Raven’s” suitor, and another heart will be broken come Friday. 

And Hwanwoong swears he isn’t trying, but more often than not, he catches Youngjo in the same vicinity as him wherever he looks.

He caught him standing outside Hwanwoong’s dance room on Tuesday. He walked past the Physical Health classroom, Hwanwoong’s last class that isn’t Nutrition or Dance, on the following Wednesday. And while there was always an easy way to explain _why_ the upperclassman had business there, it was a much harder task not to pay him all of his attention _when_ he was.

Fine, he’ll admit it; he has a small crush on Kim Youngjo.

Being pulled farther and farther away and leaving his questions unanswered is more detrimental to him than the opposite. But Keonhee won’t see it this way, and he doesn’t want to understand why Hwanwoong is so curious in the first place, and it’s annoying. Why won’t his friend _just_ tell him what he wants to know? What is the harm in that? He himself fails to understand.

But there isn’t anyone else he could talk to about it. The girls have moved on a week or so after their dates happened, and for better or for worse, “Raven” stopped being a word in their vocabulary. He can’t just ask Geonhak; he’s popular in a different sense of the word, and probably doesn’t know who he is. 

The only person he could ask is Keonhee. Or “Raven’s” current girlfriend.

He tries one more time, just before Keonhee heads to his Friday tutoring session.

“Keonhee, I know you know something about that “Raven” guy.” Hwanwoong is towering over his friend at their front door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why does he date someone different every week? I just want to know.”

Keonhee is busy tying his second shoe before he stands up. “Hey, I heard the art director’s son isn’t gonna be able to perform in the dance recital this December. Did you know that?”

“I— what? Yeah, of course I know. He’s in _my_ class.”

Keonhee winks at him. _“Far_ more interesting than anything else, don’t you think?”

They don’t exchange any more words when Keonhee leaves. The older male surprisingly doesn’t seem upset with Hwanwoong for bringing up this topic every other conversation, despite all of the times he told Hwanwoong to drop it. But the dancer is fed up with being treated like a child and tired of being ignored. At least don’t keep him in the dark.

Is that too much to ask from his best friend?

Now he’s back alone with his thoughts, and what was once the center focus in his mind up until recently had fully shifted into something else. What should have just been curiosity of Youngjo had given way to irritation with Keonhee, and unless he wants to have a fight with his friend, he needs a solution of some sort.

And then it hits him.

Maybe he shouldn’t be bothering anyone with something this stupid after all.

He’s just dragging this burden onto everyone, having them deal with their wounds just so that he could get the answers. Maybe this topic really is a hurtful and tricky one for Keonhee, and Hwanwoong has been nothing but selfish, demanding him to talk to him about it. If the truth was a conversation away, then so be it; it’s a conversation that doesn’t happen. Who was the dancer to decide his friend’s feelings and capability to open up?

And even if the possibility of Hwanwoong earning Youngjo’s attention existed, who is to say it would last, or be worth it anyway?

Keonhee has a lot of patience for an idiot like him.

Hwanwoong throws himself onto his bed, overrun with guilt and newfound self-loathing. He draws the memory of running into Nana and Youngjo in his mind, recalling the smile the upperclassman gave him, and tells himself he is only imagining his heart beating faster. He’s only pretending to sweat, only in his mind that his cheeks are burning.

Too bad. He’s just going to have to settle with being the gay side character that pines for the male lead but doesn’t get anywhere with him (an old and boring trope, might he add). Maybe this is as close to a love story he’ll get. 

  
  


A soft vibration against his ear rouses him from sleep. His phone was left beside his head, now ringing with an incoming call, but the dancer doesn’t feel the normal urgency to answer right away and lets it ring.

The phone goes silent, but the screen doesn’t shut back off. Hwanwoong doesn’t care; if it drains the battery, then oh well. He’ll worry about it later.

He’s about to slip back into a dream when Sunmi’s Gashina plays again, the device springing back to life with another incoming call.

Damn it; he loves this song, but it’s getting annoying now.

He forces his eyes to open and stares at the ceiling, the white paint glowing a bright orange with the setting sun outside his window. Without wasting too much energy and without bothering to check the name, he grabs the phone and answers it. “Hey.”

_“... Did I call at a bad time, hyung?”_

Hwanwoong’s eyelids snap wide open. Dongju?

“No, no,” the dancer pushes against gravity and sits up, sleep-heavy tongue slurring his words. “It’s okay. I’m awake now. How are you?”

His younger friend hums. _“Well, good “morning” then. And I’m okay. If I’m honest, I suddenly felt this urge to call you…”_

Hwanwoong’s gaze is transfixed on the floor as he listens to Dongju‘s voice, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It had been almost an entire month since he last heard from him; he should really check up on him more instead of worrying about people he will never know as well as him. “Yeah? How come?”

_“I don’t know.”_ He sounds tired. _“It’s been a long and crazy month. I just… I really miss my friends.”_

Hwanwoong presses his lips together. “We miss you too. Life must be really tough for you.”

_“It’s harder without people to regularly talk to. Which was why I called you. I couldn’t ignore this feeling of wanting to speak to you, hyung.”_ He draws in a quick breath. _“Will you humor me and tell me something new happening with you?”_

Hwanwoong chortles. “You don’t have to talk like that. Well...”

Should he tell him? It’s not like Dongju is the type to run and spill secrets. Besides, he hardly has anyone to run and spill them to anyway. The dancer just doesn’t know if he wants to feel icky talking poorly of Keonhee for the first time in his life.

Yet here he is, with a growing grudge for his best friend, and here he goes, opening his mouth.

“I’m kind of in an argument with Keonhee hyung.” Hwanwoong winces when the phone captures a small gasp on the other end. “... Yeah. Actually, we’re not fighting, and it’s hardly an argument if you think about it.”

_“But someone is mad at someone else.”_

Precisely. Hwanwoong sighs in defeat.

Dongju must be pondering in thought. Hwanwoong counts the ticks on his bedroom clock until the high school student can reply. _“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you guys at odds like this before. It must be serious.”_

Hwanwoong laughs dryly. “Not really. I’m just selfish and forcing him to talk to me about something that hurts him.”

_“I get it now; the urge to call you, it must have been because my partner in crime is beating himself up again.”_ Dongju clicks his tongue, taking on a playfully scolding tone. _“It doesn’t matter how dumb you think something is. It’s never worth the demeaning words you tell yourself. You taught me that, hyung.”_

How embarrassing. It’s not often Hwanwoong can say he receives advice from his younger friend. However, even at such a distance, they still act as though they’re glued at the hip, inseparable and able to detect when their other half is depressed.

… Dongju can, at least. 

The college first year feels himself wanting to isolate himself from the rest of the world today.

“Yeah, you’re right. I did say that a lot.” Not that it was easy to practice, admittedly. 

_“It’s okay to slip up every once in a while. We’re just human,”_ Dongju states, his voicesurprisingly comforting. _“Can you tell me what happened?”_

Well, there was no point in holding back now. He’s the one being consoled, but he can still set the example for Dongju and show it’s okay to be vulnerable, as much as he hates it.

“Okay, um… I know this is gonna sound really weird, but… there’s this guy at school I like.”

_“Ooh, go on.”_

Hwanwoong snorts. “But he’s straight.”

_“Boo. Of course he is.”_

“Right? Anyway, he does this crazy thing where he’s in a different relationship every week. Three weeks ago, he dated my classmates, and that’s when I learned he existed.” He stares out the window while he talks. “But they don’t talk about him anymore, and I can’t just ask to talk to them about their exes.”

Dongju shifts his phone around, the sound of wind almost drowning out his low voice. _“I think you still can, if it’s out of concern, they’ll understand.”_

Hwanwoong frowns. “It _has_ been more than a week since they dated the guy, though. I don’t wanna reopen old wounds if the week gave them time to heal.”

_“Hm. That’s true.”_ He can hear Dongju groan in a way one does when they stretch. _“And Hee Hyung won’t tell you anything?”_

“Apparently he hates this guy’s guts so much he wants nothing to do with him. He won’t even gossip about him with me.”

_“Why don’t you tell him the truth?”_

Hwanwoong blinks. “The truth?”

Dongju must be smirking (or it's his imagination, either or). “That you like this guy. What’s the worst thing he could do? He knows what it’s like to pine over someone in unrequited love.”

The dancer chokes on his laughter, instantly regretting breathing so quickly. “That’s horrible, Dongju!”

_“You’re right, I’m sorry. But he of all people knows how you should be feeling. All you have to do is tell him everything.”_

Dongju is still as cool as ever. Even if it all seems like common sense now, it was nothing but static and confusion to the dancer until this moment of clarity. Hwanwoong nods. “You’re so smart, Ju. Thank you.”

_“Don’t mention it. You_ did _have one other solution though, but you might not like it.”_

“And what’s that?”

The younger male is definitely grinning now. _“You_ could _always ask the guy you like yourself. For extra notice points.”_

Hwanwoong barks a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not asking him something like that. I bet a ton of people ask him about it so much already.”

_“If he isn’t prepared to answer the question a thousand times, he probably shouldn’t_ do _the questioned thing a thousand times. I might be wrong, but that’s how I feel.”_

Hwanwoong misses having the younger male here with him. He misses how comforting he can be, how patient and gentle he is when he deals with a person’s fragile mental state, and would give anything to be able to see him again. “I hate how smart you are sometimes, Dongju.”

_“Me too.”_

Hwanwoong’s phone vibrates in his hand with an incoming call; it’s Keonhee. His first instinct is to apply what he learned while it’s still fresh in his mind, but he’s still talking to Dongju. Not to mention the instinct in second place is to just straight up ignore him.

He doesn’t want to hang up with Dongju yet, and pretends nothing is happening.

“We’ve got so much to catch up on. Oh! You know about Geonhak’s operation, right?”

_“Yeah, it’s for his hip. I don’t remember what for, specifically, but he won’t be able to dance for a while.”_

Hwanwoong nods, “I didn’t know it was for that, he just mentioned an operation to me. He talked to me about being his understudy, and I’m finally dragging him out from his comfort zone. He’s too lonely.”

Dongju laughs. _“He told me a little bit about that, about how his new friends are loud and extra. I didn’t know how that applied so much to you until he dropped Hee hyung’s name, too.”_

Hwanwoong chuckles. “Right?” His phone stops ringing. It vibrates one last time for the voicemail notification before falling back asleep. “I’m surprised you’ve talked to me for this long already. No homework?”

_“Close. No parents.”_

“Even better! I hope they’re doing well, though.”

Dongju hums proudly. _“They are, they’re just out of town for the weekend. Dongmyeong hyung and I are taking this opportunity to see people… so if you want to hang out, I’m finally able to.”_

Hwanwoong couldn’t contain the happiness the news elicited. “That’s amazing, Ju! Let’s hang out this weekend. Tell me what day and time, and Keonhee and I will be there!”

_“Just make sure to be on speaking terms when I do,”_ the high schooler quips. _“It feels like I’m mediating a fight between my parents.”_

“We will be, don’t worry.” Hwanwoong ignores another incoming call. “Besides, if we were your parents, we’d kick your butt for not keeping in touch with Geonhak as much.”

_“I’m kicking my own butt over it. No need for the extra help.”_

Hwanwoong sighs. “Anyway, someone’s calling me, so I’m going to have to hang up now.”

Dongju hums in affirmation. _“Okay. I’ll talk to you again later when I have the date for us to hang out.”_

“Alright. Bye Ju!”

_“Bye hyung.”_

Hwanwoong pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at the screen. It’s not Keonhee this time; it’s his mom.

That’s right, it’s Friday. She’s expecting him over again. He accepts the call and brings the phone back up to his ear. “Hi mom.”

His mom’s voice is as soothing as ever. _“Hi Hwanwoong. Am I picking you and Keonhee up after the game again today? I haven’t heard from you at all this week.”_

Hwanwoong frowns. “Yeah, um… actually I’d just been sleeping. I had a headache today.”

_“Oh, I see. You’re alright now, though?”_

“I’m okay! But it’s just gonna be me coming over today. I’m not going to the game after all.”

She still sounds worried, but it might not be over the headache so much anymore. Hwanwoong really only travels home alone when he’s down, so it’s instinct for her to think something happened to him. (And it did, but she doesn’t have to know that.) _“Do you want me to come over to get you now?”_

He nods. “Yes please. I’ll meet you outside the field like always?”

_“Okay Woongie. I’ll see you soon.”_

“Bye mom, and thank you.”

  
  


He makes sure he locks everything up before flying down the stairs, racing towards the football field. He has a message to deliver to Keonhee before he goes home for the weekend, but wants to tell him in person; text wouldn’t do it justice. He knows exactly where Keonhee would be today; the voicemail asked him if he’d wanted to meet up for the game. But here he is, just _now_ telling him he won’t make it.

The priority of that message is to, above all else, apologize for being a horrible friend lately.

He doesn’t answer a second call from Keonhee, doesn’t answer his text messages, because he knows where he’ll find him: sitting comfortably on the bleachers with a perfect view of the scoreboard, or standing in the crowded lines at the concessions, struggling to hold his pizza, chips, and soda.

The clock strikes 7PM, and the game starts in the field beside him. 

He’s scanning the mobs of people now, but still no sight of the light brown haired beanpole. He must be with their mutual group of friends on the bleachers already, if not here; he’s never one to miss the start of a game.

After pausing long enough to catch his breath, Hwanwoong begins to walk again, accidentally running into someone walking the opposite direction from him.

(Just briefly, his mind flickers to the memory of that person being Youngjo.)

(But it isn’t Youngjo this time.)

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

It’s a girl he doesn’t know, and he wants to apologize profusely, but she doesn’t look at him. Her hair is cascading over her shoulders, head lowered to cover her eyes, but the dancer can hear brief sobs over her short apology.

Hwanwoong frowns, trying to angle himself while bowing to get a better look at her face. When it dawns on him who this girl is, his heart sinks. It’s “Raven’s” girlfriend, or it _was._ It’s Friday evening. “I’m sorry again, and… are you okay?”

“Yes.” She snaps at him, running straight past him and towards the bleachers. The exchange gives way to a new stinging in his eyes, and he does his best not to let the emotions overwhelm him.

Poor girl. Too many are getting their hearts broken; he doesn’t know how much longer his own can take watching.

He pulls his phone out and counts how many new notifications were waiting for him: two missed calls from Keonhee, a missed call from his mom, and a text from Geonhak. He unlocks the phone and begins typing away.

  
  
  


**[To: Lee Hee Hyung] [Fri 7:03 PM]**

hey hyung, sorry I haven’t been answering. I don’t feel too well

I’m going to my mom’s this weekend to figure something out 

can we meet up tomorrow morning at the school?

  
  
  


As he waits for a reply, he opens the next message waiting for him.

  
  
  


**[From: Hak Hyung] [Fri: 7:01 PM]**

Hey, I heard from Dongju that we’re meeting up this weekend. Do you know the day?

  
  
  


Wow, how formal. This was his first time texting Geonhak, and damn is the writing as uptight as his speech is. Hwanwoong unconsciously sports a smile as he answers.

**[To: Hak Hyung] [Fri 7:05 PM]**

not yet

he’ll let us know though. I’m excited!!

  
  
  


He truly is, until he receives Keonhee’s response.

  
  
  


**[From: Lee Hee Hyung] [Fri 7:06 PM]**

cool. I can do tomorrow.

hope you feel better soon.

  
  
  


It’s cold. Cold, despite the well wishes. Hwanwoong doesn’t know what to think. He just stares down on his device, feeling alone now more than ever. All of his resolve to clear the air withered away, and he can’t muster the courage to see him anymore.

So much for expecting everything to be hunky dory while he sorted himself through his identity crisis.

But he brought this upon himself. And maybe it’s his mental and physical exhaustion that’s amplifying everything. He’s sure he’ll feel better after a good night's sleep, if it comes at all tonight.

He just wishes all of this didn’t have to hurt so much.

The next thing that registers in his mind is the achingly long ringing, the automated voicemail in his mom’s voice, and the beep that served as his cue to speak. “Hey mom, I’m on my way now. Sorry for being late, I’ll be there soon.”

And when he does see her, she’s happy to see him, asking about his day and about everything school related. When he does see her, he hides behind a mask and wears a perfect smile, the promise of the weekend becoming the last stronghold against calling it a horrible day. All he can do is gaze out the window and watch as the school shrinks away and falls out of sight, and hope he’ll be in a better mindset to make things right tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter!!
> 
> For those of you who follow me on Twitter, you’ve seen my poll and know the results for chapter six. And for those who haven’t, I asked for your opinion on whose point of view I should write in next, and everyone voted for Youngjo!
> 
> Chapter six will feature Youngjo’s backstory, so please look forward to the next update.
> 
> If you want in on future polls, please follow me on [twt](http://twitter.com/noxrequiem/)!!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origins of the love raffle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: // homophobia
> 
> I want to remind everyone who reads there is actively homophobic dialogue in several chapters of Love Raffle, so if you missed it in the tags and this makes you uncomfortable, please please PLEASE DO NOT READ.
> 
> I hope you’ve all been well this week. Happy Friday to everyone, and despite being a longer chapter, I hope you look forward to a new point of view this week!

She finally answers the call. _“Hello?”_

Ravn rests against his pillow and smiles, perched against the bed frame so that his body almost reaches a sitting position. Adjusting the grip on his phone, he replies sweetly; “Hi, is this Sanghee-ssi I’m speaking to?”

_“This is her. Who is this?”_

Of course his number wouldn’t be familiar to her, so it’s only natural she’d speak so coldly. But he knows she is looking forward to seeing him. Her neatly handwritten letter in hand, he’s rereading the phone number drawn on a pastel pink paper in purple ink.

“This is Ravn. I got your letter.”

  
  


——

  
  


_“Get yourself a girl that wouldn’t care about you wearing all that junk on your face.”_

_The words haunted Youngjo since he set foot into his first year of high school. What would continue to be a self identity crisis that will last for almost eight whole years became his entire existence. The judgment, echoing in his father’s voice within the space of his head, planted a permanent seed of doubt and created a home out of his confusion, always amplified by that strange sense of discomfort when his hand met another girl’s._

_In a desperate attempt to escape the mental traps he placed for himself, he clumsily threw himself onto the classmate he felt the first slightest bond with. Ahn Hyejin was her name. They had both just started high school when they met, but she was far stronger than he could ever hope to be. She was as brilliant as she was intimidating, shining brighter than anyone he’d seen before. Oddly enough, she was easy to talk to; a warm and caring soul, someone as weak as he relished in her company. She didn’t care if he wore make up, which sealed their fate as friends, and if anything, she taught him how to better embrace the shades and techniques that best fit his features. Everything he learned was because of her._

_She was perfect, and she embraced everything he was ashamed of. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame._

_These desirable traits deceived him; he was under the impression that he was in love with her, thought she was the one for him, and maybe, just maybe, his father would approve of him if he could just bring her home._

_But when the day for his confession arrived, his “crush” embraced and gave her kiss to another woman; his whole world crumbled beneath his feet and disintegrated around him. He was lost, more than ever before._

_But why? He never loved her._

_He loved what she represented: individuality and self love._

_He doesn’t have it in himself to find it alone._

  
  


——

  
  


The second year girl named Sanghee was over the moon when he called her. That was what she told him, anyway.

Her story was that her relatives were getting married that Saturday, the day after their first phone conversation, and he called her just in time. She had discussed her plan to have him play the part as her “boyfriend” long enough so that the mouths of family who got bored of the bride wouldn’t harass Sanghee. She refused to become a target, and that’s where Ravn came in. 

It was a reasonable request, and definitely not one he hadn’t heard of before. It looked like she wasn’t looking for anything serious with him.

Good; attachments were too painful, and he could only imagine what hurt it would evoke the one who _was_ attached.

(He’s only ever imagined it every waking day for years now.)

  
  


——

  
  


_“Youngjo, I need your help.”_

_It was halfway through their senior year in high school the day Hyejin loomed over his desk, distressed. Her lip was a second away from being split in her teeth. Youngjo, who probably looked as stupid as he felt, could only stare at her. “With what, noona?”_

_“I need you to cover for Wheein.” She slapped an envelope down on his table, the paper decorated with wedding bell stickers and hearts and tied together with simple white lace. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to recognize what it was at first sight._

_Still, what she needed from him had yet to register in his head. “What did you want me to do?”_

_Hyejin huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. “My mother is marrying my step father this weekend, but you know he’s a homophobic piece of trash. I can’t bring my girlfriend with me to the wedding or else he’ll throw a massive tantrum and embarrass me in front of everyone.”_

_It sounded all too familiar, like something he’d expect his own father to pull. Both men were cut from the same cloth; in simplest terms, boys who wore cosmetics were shameful, girls who refused to wear feminine clothing were disgraceful, and arousal at your own reflection was less of a crime than being with someone of the same sex as yourself. The only difference between the two is that Youngjo is the son of one and Hyejin is the daughter of the other._

_Regardless of their sex, both children were a shameful disgrace._

_“You… you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?” He asked dumbly._

_She nodded. “It’s just for a week. The wedding is this Friday, but they’re dragging immediate family along for their “honeymoon vacation” or whatever until next Friday.”_

_Youngjo frowned. “I don’t know if I can do that, Hyejin. If your stepdad is anything like my dad, he’ll say something to me.”_

_“About your makeup, or your clothes?” She smirked, acrylic nails scraping the wedding invitation back into her hand. “You leave that to me. I won’t let anyone give you shit.”_

_She was adamant when she set her mind on something, he learned, and he admired that. But he was terrified of what he was getting himself into, being used like some sort of commodity._

_But if he could use her, too, for his own personal gain… What does he have to lose?_

_“Al-alright.” The knot in his throat is almost too hard to swallow. “I’ll do it.”_

_Her pearly whites glisten in her smile. “Thank you, Youngjo. You’re a lifesaver.”_

  
  


——

  
  


“Mom, dad. This is Ravn, my boyfriend.”

Sanghee’s parents are thrown off when they make eye contact with him, probably due to the cosmetics, but they quickly shift to smiles. They must feel so antsy, and Youngjo wants to feel guilty, but he’s too busy pretending to be sweet and flashing them a grin to care. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

Sanghee locks her fingers with his as he talks. The nerves in his hand suddenly go numb.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ravn,” Sanghee’s mother pipes up, quick to embrace him briefly. “And here I was worried my baby would never find someone.”

He chuckles. He doesn’t have to see his “girlfriend” in his peripherals to know she’s cringing.

Her father agrees with an exasperated huff, giving Ravn’s hand a firm shake. “Same here. But we were worrying over nothing, weren’t we, dear?” He‘s all smiles now. “Thanks for taking care of our little girl.”

Ravn respectfully bows his head. “Please don’t thank me; if anything, she’s taking care of me.”

“Aren’t you a humble catch.”

The handshakes, the winks, and the laughs; everything flirtatious Ravn does has become second nature to him. He knows people are scrutinizing their niece (or cousin) and her “boyfriend.” He knows judgmental gazes are being thrown at him every second of the event. It’s sad, really; why do they stare at him when the bride is absolutely stunning? He meets all of them with the same scripted greeting, long past the days a single stranger’s eyes would tear him apart.

And when the two finally walk onto the dance floor for a couples’ number, he has to stifle a snort when he whispers in Sanghee’s ear, “Your parents too, huh?”

She rolls her eyes. _“Everyone_ in my family is out to get me. They want me to be a wife, because I already missed my chance to be a young mother.”

Youngjo winces. “Oh dear. That doesn’t sound very fair.”

“It’s not, but I don’t care. Let’s not talk about that stuff anymore.” She tilts her head curiously, eyes skipping along his face. “Can you tell me who taught you how to do your makeup?”

He hums fondly. “An old friend of mine.”

  
  


——

  
  


_The day of the wedding arrived after many long and sleepless nights. Hyejin looked absolutely lovely in her emerald bridesmaid dress, the satin cloth off her shoulder and wrapped flatteringly around her curves. Usually tied back, her hair bounced in luscious locks, silver strands complimenting the choice in jewelry around her neck and from her ears. Even dolled up in his best suit and eyeshadow shades, Youngjo paled in comparison to her. She was larger than life, dangerously beautiful, and he was rather content staying in her shadow._

_Of course, she never let him._

_“This is Ravn,” she introduced to her parents long after the dinner had started. Youngjo bit the inside of his lip, confused by the name, but didn’t say anything._

_Her mother was excited to see him, but her father shot daggers at him. “You are a man, right? I can’t tell with all that gunk on your face.”_

_He told himself he would stay strong for her. Encouraged by the sudden bark from his female companion, his decorated eyes stare back at the older man, glossed lips curling into a jaded smile._

_(Oh how he died inside a little more that day.)_

_“Yes sir. I am male.”_

  
  


_The ceremony flew by without much of an issue, though Youngjo had caught Hyejin’s stepfather occasionally ogling him even after their awkward introduction. Still, it was a celebratory event that wasn’t about them, so he made a note to himself not to stay cooped up in his head for so long that he missed the entire party._

_Everyone else was happy. Everyone but Hyejin._

_He knew, even as she clasped tightly around his hand and slowly tangoed in his stiffened arms, that her heart wasn’t here. How devastated her mom would have felt to know that._

_And the nightmare that haunted him the most, to this very day…_

_“Youngjo, kiss me.”_

_His stomach lurched when she dropped the demand, almost unable to understand her words. Tone flat and dripping with disgust, she wore a scowl he learned to associate with anything that had to do with her father. He must have been the catalyst to the depletion of her patience. Youngjo almost laughed, but his nausea stopped him. “What? Why?”_

_“They’re seeing through me,” she growls, fighting the urge to throw a glare at the other guests. “We’re not lovey dovey enough for them. I promise it’ll just be this once.”_

_She started to ask for too much. But he was the only one who could help her. So he agreed, and their lips met._

_There were no sparks. No butterflies in his stomach. No epiphany of boundless happiness._

_It was nothing like romance movies tended to show. He didn’t know what to expect, but he felt wrong. It probably wasn’t anything close to how he would have liked for it would play out._

_He hated how gross he felt afterward. And by the look of regret he caught displayed on her pretty face just as she leaned on him, he could tell Hyejin hated it too._

_“I’m sorry. I hope your boyfriend doesn’t get mad at you for this.”_

_Boyfriend?_

_“Me?” Her misplaced concern threw him for a loop, and he flashed her a lopsided grin. “Why would you assume I have a boyfriend?”_

_Hyejin rolled her tongue in her cheek. “I don’t know. Because all of my friends and I are gay?”_

_That was fair. And now that he dwelled on it… it didn’t seem too far of a stretch to assume he was, though it would be some time before he humored that idea again. Youngjo cleared his throat. “Also, why ‘Raven?’”_

_“For the name? Well, it suits you. You’re always reading those comic books and stuff, so I figured something from there would be a nice disguise.” How observant of her. She went on, “I don’t want my family trying to look for you after this week, either. It’ll give us a peace of mind not to worry about them hunting you down.”_

_The pseudonym made perfect sense now, but the truth behind it terrified him. “How scary.”_

_The slow dance was finally over, and the song faded into something more upbeat. They still held hands, but now Hyejin is dragging him with a newfound fire under her feet. “Enough of the toxic crap; let’s tune them out and just be free. Also, if anyone asks… it’s Ravn without the ‘e,’ got it?”_

_He covered his mouth with his hand as he chortled. “Yeah, I guess. I’m at your family’s party, after all.”_

_“Good. Let’s dance.”_

  
  


——

  
  


_“Thanks again for helping me, Ravn sunbaenim. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”_

Her gratitude sounds sincere, and it’s enough to make a smile bloom on his face. “You’re welcome. That’s what I’m here for.”

_“I wish we didn’t have to be so fake like that. My family wouldn’t have to give you a hard time if they weren’t so weird with their traditions, you know?”_ She sighs on the other end of the phone. _“I’m sorry for dragging you along for the ride.”_

Why is she apologizing? He’s very used to it. 

“Don’t be sorry, Sanghee-ssi. I’m happy just helping you out of that predicament. I know family expectations can be really tough.”

(He could hear his father’s voice every time the air around him grows quiet.)

“Speaking of that… could I ask you for help with something?”

_“Of course, Ravn. Anything.”_

Perfect. His smile turns sly. “Thank you. Could you maybe let me…?”

  
  


——

_“... Introduce me to your father?”_

_Youngjo hung his head and mustered a slight nod to Hyejin, extremely embarrassed. The shame weighed so heavily on his tongue that he couldn’t talk. He didn’t know why he asked something so absurd from her despite having gone through a similar length for her the Friday prior. Their fake relationship is over; why should she owe him a favor?_

_Hyejin must have felt differently. She leaned against the wall in the school hallway with her arms crossed as they waited for their mutual friends to arrive. “Your dad’s coming down on you hard for your makeup and stuff, isn’t he?”_

_He nodded again and croaked out, “Yeah. It’s even worse now.”_

_“I’m sorry, Youngjo. Look, I’m happy to help...” she snickered. “But to be honest, it sounds like you’re covering for a boyfriend.”_

_There was that term again. He frowned at her, not sure why he wasn’t repulsed at the implication. Not that his answer helped anything, either: “I don’t have one.”_

_“I can change that.” She peeled herself away from the wall and teasingly poked his cheek with a nail, no longer sporting the acrylics she used to wear in her early days of dating her girlfriend Wheein. “I’ll introduce you to him; his name is Gunmin, or Seoho, I think. Remind me to set you up with him when we’re done making your dad uncomfortable with our incessant PDA.”_

_He wanted to roll his eyes. “Okay noona. Thank you.”_

_She almost forgot to acknowledge the gratitude when she perked back up again. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, my friend wants to borrow you for a week too. She says she’s got an abusive ex that won’t stop stalking her till she hooks up with someone else.”_

_Oh._

_Again with pretending to be someone’s boyfriend?_

_Damn it. He couldn’t find it in himself to say no. If it meant helping someone else and hiding from his father, so be it, he’ll keep being someone’s dog._

_He hates it. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but..._

  
  


“Get yourself a girl that wouldn’t care about you wearing all that junk on your face.”

_He can’t hear those words again. His spirit can’t take it anymore._

_“Sure. I’ll help her.”_

_Hyejin winks at him, unaware of the war he waged with himself. “Thanks Ravn.”_

_As flustered as the exchange left him, he made sure to follow through with everything they discussed. Hyejin made sure to fabricate so much intimate information that Youngjo’s father would feel stupid if he tried to pry anymore in his son’s love life. He called Hyejin’s friend (a college student named Yongsun) and set up a date with her in hopes to deter any future unwanted advances from her ex. Not even five minutes past after that phone call, and he’d started receiving friendly messages from the person named Seoho he’d been somewhat eager to meet._

_After nine o’clock that night, he walked out with his dad temporarily off of his back, a “picnic date” at the park with his best friend’s best friend, and one new name in his rather small contact list._

  
  


It started off as a fake relationship with a friend he thought could save him from his biggest insecurities.

Next was that picnic, with a girl using Youngjo’s face and name to save her from her dilemma.

If he remembers correctly, it was another girl that following week that wanted him to teach her how to do makeup…

And then the details began to blur with that very next week; had his next partner wanted her first relationship or her first time in bed with a man? Or was it both?

What came after that? Another wedding date? Or was it a week for his partner to just uphold appearances at school?

Does it matter now? How could he keep track of every new face and accompanied reason to use him each week for almost four years?

His father had been satisfied since Youngjo became so popular among his female peers that he finally left him alone with his fashion choices. Additionally, almost everyone he helped has been grateful he was there, thanking him for what he’s done for them. In a weird way… it began to feel good.

He felt happy.

All Youngjo had to do was find a girl that didn’t care for what he did with his face and clothes, right? If that was the case, he was set. Even in college, from his first to his last year, people needed him; people wanted him for his usefulness, for his image. He’d gotten many girls that never judged him for what he wore on his face. 

He’ll parade around the school holding a new hand every week under the name Ravn as long as he needs to, if it lets Youngjo be himself.

It was a guaranteed promise that always began with the opening of a new carefully crafted and sealed love letter.

It was an empty happiness Ravn could live with forever.

  
  


——

  
  


“You wanted to talk, Ravn sunbaenim?”

The senior student nods with a soft sigh, his hands shoved in his pocket and his eyes fixated on the tips of Sanghee’s shoes. It’s just the two of them right now, standing below a tree outside the university walls. The sun is setting on the horizon, while the air around them is silent except for the occasional car passing by and the football game’s announcements on campus. He pulls his gaze up and forces them to stay on the sophomore, trying not to let the hurt look get to him when the words finally come tumbling from his lips.

“Yeah. It’s Friday.”

Time to say goodbye and move on to the next girl.

“Oh, that’s right, huh?” She laughs, or tries to, and rubs the back of her neck shyly. He doesn’t smile; he can’t, because he learned they would think he’s pitying them, and he doesn’t want to add salt to the wound these break ups give them. “To be honest, I’d kind of forgotten what day it was. But I’m not upset! I knew from the start where this was going.”

When did they start becoming attached to him?

He is still watching her, not sure what expression to pull right now. She seems rather composed and understanding even with the welling tears, but he won’t get involved, won’t try to comfort her. He made it clear from the start it was only for seven days; someone else needed him now and he had a routine to maintain.

(When did he become so cold?)

She is a sweetheart, and actually made him feel comfortable in his own shell, so he decides to throw her a bone even if it’s probably no good for her at all. “Did you want to grab something else to eat, and let the night last a little bit longer?”

“No. It’s fine.” An expected answer, but the lack of scorn and a foreign gentleness definitely took him aback. “I have someplace to be, and so do you. You have to help someone else now, right?”

That’s what it’s supposed to be for, but at this point, he’d just indulged in the front they helped him build. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” 

(It was the only reply he had that didn't sound like the lie it was.)

She sniffles again, but her smile never faded as much as she subconsciously wanted to let it go. “That's… yes. Just, thank you for helping me.”

The words are nothing but static now, but it’s his cue to smile and nod. “Thank you for trusting me. I hope we can see each other again soon.”

“I know we will.”

And they finally walk their separate paths again, his around the campus and hers back home with her friends.

  
  


As he makes his way off the bleachers, Ravn digs into his book bag for a new letter. His fingers card through the messy nest of envelopes all collected from his dorm room earlier that day, searching through between twenty to thirty papers for the next phone number. Out of twenty plus female students looking for a week-long relationship with Ravn, he’ll pick one to continue that cycle. It had been his system for as long as he could remember since it kept him unbiased, and with almost four long years of life everyone learned how it worked. 

It was a game that treated both the players and the master as its puppets.

Now, which letter to pick today?

He notices someone ascending the bleacher steps in front of him, but he nonchalantly stamps the fact away with the assumption the other person will move aside for him. He doesn’t bother looking up, doesn’t bother side stepping, and enough time passes to spawn the question in his head; _is this guy really not going to move?_

Of course not; he’s conveniently not paying attention. They crash anyway, and a bunch of the cutely decorated envelopes he had been taking excellent care of fall out of his bag and land in a fresh puddle of what he determines to be spilt Sprite.

Of course this happens. How on earth did this guy with rather full hands miss seeing someone walking his way? 

(To be fair, he did ask for it by not taking initiative when he had the chance.)

“Oh! Oh shit, sorry! I’m-I’m so sorry! Here, let me help!”

The student he bumped into is quick to cast his food to the side to collect what had dropped so unceremoniously onto the floor, all while freaking out. It would have amused Ravn if it wasn’t so annoying. The blond male is gently sorting through what had been damaged by his sugary drink and what was considered safe, making a third separate pile for papers that didn't resemble a letter. Ravn kneels down to pick up the stacks one by one, a short “thanks” all he gives him.

The other shakes his head. “No no, it’s okay, It was my fault.” 

It was Ravn’s, but now the upperclassman’s attention is taken by something else. He can’t care about the blame game anymore.

This is Sanghee’s classmate from Physical Health, the warm and sweet freshman that did the entire project for her while they were away at her relative’s wedding. He remembers her story and knows who this person is. 

He’s really cute.

They stand back up after cleaning, and Ravn gives him a smile. “Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry about your soda.”

The other male shakes his head quickly, and Ravn isn’t sure if he’s seeing things or if the blonde is blushing. “It’s-it’s okay! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, it’s my fault. I should be apologizing for ruining your papers.”

How sweet of him. Ravn laughs. “It’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry.” He could tell the blonde was still uneasy, so he pops another question: “Can I buy you a new soda?”

For some reason this sends the underclassman into a panic, and he’s waving his hands and reddening even more. “I’m fine! I have an extra for myself anyway! But thank you!”

Was that so weird of an offer that it would warrant someone to freak out like this? It seems somewhat familiar, something Seoho had probably done when they had first met. It’s almost as though…

Yeah, right.

He supposes the conversation is over; mostly out of concern for the shorter male in case further dialogue will actually make his head explode. Ravn nods in acknowledgement and waves. “Alright then. See you later.”

He waits until he gets a wordless wave back before he continues down his path off the bleachers. He’s still grumbling to himself that a handful of his letters are destroyed with liquid sugar. Keeping them will definitely attract bugs, but like hell he’ll throw them away. Maybe there is still some way to save them if he hurries on home.

The other guy, though…

Ravn turns back around, quick to spot Sanghee’s classmate pathetically collecting his own belongings back into his arms. Just now did it occur to Ravn; he has a nice body. He’s lithe in his movements, his hands are delicate, and he’s sporting rather feminine clothing, if the cute crop top and tight jeans are anything to go off of. It fills the senior student with curiosity. 

Is this another person trying to find himself like Ravn is, or is he beyond that phase, and already comfortable in his own skin? He would like to know, but maybe this isn't the time. 

(At least he knows where to find him.)

  
  


He’s looking over the pink letter in his hand, absently drawing over the line of fading color on the paper where the soda had soaked through. Sitting comfortably on his father’s sofa, he plasters on that same sweet smile when his call is finally answered, everything else following like clockwork.

“Hi, may I speak to Nana-ssi? This is Ravn... Yeah, I read your letter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all who participated in the poll. I hope to see you all again in the next one!
> 
> And as always, thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to look up for Hwanwoong, and maybe he can catch a break this time.
> 
> ... Or, maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late in the day, but still a Friday for some. Hope everyone had a great day!

Saturday morning finally arrives. It’s 10AM, and surprisingly, Hwanwoong was out like a log all night. He slept so deeply and for so long that he missed yet another call from Keonhee sometime around 8AM, who didn’t bother leaving a voicemail this time.

(And the award for worst friend of the year goes to…)

Hwanwoong rests against the gate beside the entrance to the school, his staggered breaths burning a hole through his lungs. Thankfully his mother’s house isn’t too far south from the college; it’s only a twenty minute walking distance, but the dancer made it in five, cursing himself the entire way for sleeping in and missing his chance to set the mood for reconciliation.

Keonhee won’t try answering his calls anymore, and Hwanwoong begins to worry that he screwed everything up. What if he really blew it? He shouldn’t have ignored him, shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him, and seized his opportunity when his phone rang the very first time.

“Please be here, hyung,” he quietly pleads, shoving the pain in his chest aside to scan the campus grounds, or whatever he could see of it, behind the buildings. Where is he? Did he leave? Did he not bother showing up at all? Is he still here and slowly losing faith in his friendship along with his patience?

So many thoughts are spinning in his head at once that he feels he may faint.

“There you are! Hwanwoong!” 

The dancer’s head jerks to face the direction of the voice, and he has never felt happier in his life to see his friend. Keonhee is off in the distance by the street, waving before approaching him. The voices that haunted Hwanwoong for the past twenty four hours fall silent all at once, and Hwanwoong fails miserably at containing his tears. “Hyung, I’m sorry.”

The color drains from Keonhee’s face, and his feet carry him over to Hwanwoong faster than the dancer has ever seen him run. “Hey! Why are you crying?”

Hwanwoong coughs up a laugh through his tears. “Because I’ve been telling myself I’m a terrible friend for putting you through a lot for my selfishness.”

Keonhee doesn’t stop getting closer even when they’re finally just a foot apart, yanking the shorter male into a tight hug. “Shh, don’t say such nasty things. You’re not a terrible friend, not for something so dumb like this. I’m sorry for being a jerk to you too.”

This is nice. Hwanwoong is easily touch-repulsed, always has been, but the security of their hug is far more concrete than any “what if” he told himself the entire day. Keonhee is aware of Hwanwoong’s growing discomfort, though, and releases him before he could say anything. “Talk to me, Woong. I’ll listen this time.”

Hwanwoong swallows the lump in his throat and dries his eyes on his short sleeve. “Me too, hyung. Um… it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Keonhee doesn’t break eye contact with Hwanwoong even as the dancer’s gaze falls to the floor. He must be dead set on proving he has all of his attention this time, and he begins to believe that perhaps the younger male wasn’t the only one who was overly introspective last night.

“Okay, here goes… well, you know it’s gonna be about that Ravn guy.”

He doesn’t expect any encouragement to continue, but the taller male provides just that with a slight nod. “Go ahead.”

Hwanwoong didn’t think he would get this far in the conversation. His tears feel like they left streak marks on his skin, because they’re burning him now. “Well… I actually ran into him at a game once. And… I thought he’s really handsome.”

Keonhee waits until Hwanwoong’s words come to a comfortable stop before he huffs, but the shorter male knows it’s not directed at him. “He is. He’s really good looking. I’d be interested in him if he wasn’t doing the things he is doing now.” He seems to have a revelation, and his whole expression morphs, staring at Hwanwoong again with newfound concern. “Is that where this conversation is going? Hwanwoong, do you…?”

The dancer nods. “I like him, yeah.”

Keonhee’s gape disappears, and while his jaws lock and his brows furrow in an initial display of anger, they relax again before he speaks. “Hwanwoong, I… I’m sorry. It didn’t dawn on me that  _ that _ was why you were so curious.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t tell you. That was my fault. I wasn’t open enough to my best friend.” Hwanwoong is ready to accept the responsibility for it. “I should have taken your feelings into consideration, too; but I only did when it was almost too late.”

Keonhee shook his head.  _ ““Too late?”  _ Woong, it’s not that fragile of a friendship. There’s no such thing as a “too late” with me. I care about you, and I trust you more than you think I do.”

Each new sentence uplifts Hwanwoong’s spirits higher than the last. The urge to cry all but dissipates now. “Thank you, Keonhee.”

“No need to thank me.” It suddenly gets awkward again, and Keonhee has to clear his throat in order to speak again. “I didn’t want you to get hurt by this guy’s antics, but I ended up being the one hurting you instead. We’re friends, and I was being an ass…”

Hwanwoong blinks. Keonhee is harder on himself than he expected. “I was too. But hey, lesson learned, right? We just have to tell the other person everything when something bothers us. Sounds easy?”

The taller male chuckles. “Of course, but doing it is harder.” Hwanwoong knows, though, that Keonhee will follow through. “Anyway, let me tell you why Ravn and his raffle are obnoxious.”

“Raffle?” Oh geez. That escalated quickly. “I’m listening.”

Keonhee takes a seat beside the fence and begins to tug away at the blades of grass by his feet. “So this guy is a senior. I don’t know his real name, but no one really does. He just goes by Ravn. And that’s spelled without the ‘e,’ for some weird reason.”

_ Youngjo,  _ Hwanwoong thinks to himself, tongue held in place by his teeth.  _ Ravn’s real name is Youngjo. _

“Anyway, a bunch of girls give him love letters asking him out, and he takes them all just to pull one out every Friday and date them for like a week.” He’s grumbling, explanation tinged with irritation and contempt. “And It’s only a week. No more than that. My friend didn’t know; so apparently, she gave him a letter and he called her literally that same night, only to be told he would be with her for just seven days. He didn’t want any strings attached. She didn’t know what to expect, and just like that, it was over with them.”

Somewhere during the conversation, Hwanwoong found his jaw slightly hanging. He was shocked; he didn’t think the ordeal had such a strange twist to it.

Keonhee is frowning. “Stupid, right? I don’t know about you, but when someone likes someone else and they don’t feel the same, shouldn’t the nice thing to do be that he gently lets her down and  _ not  _ drag her along for the ride?”

“... Yeah. That’s a good point.”

When Hwanwoong’s friends dated Ravn, they seemed to have ulterior motives, almost as though they knew how to make the most out of the upperclassman’s system. Maybe there are just a few puzzle pieces missing that aren’t in Hwanwoong’s place to find.

“So he’s just an asshole through and through, and he gets away with too much.” Keonhee must have realized he was too worked up again, because he’s quickly recomposing himself with a small cough. “But yeah. He kept all the letters given to him and made a game out of it. That’s the gist of it.”

The dancer hadn’t thought of it that way. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, the image of Ravn now stirring a new emotion in his gut; disgust. Curse his good looks because Hwanwoong will always find him attractive, but he seems to be just a shallow person now. “And It’s gone on for how long?”

“Supposedly his entire university career.”

The dancer’s eyes fall to the floor. “It must have hurt to explain that to me. I’m sorry again.”

Keonhee grins sympathetically. “We’ve been over this already, Woong. It’s okay. I can’t really complain since I’m not the one who has a crush on him.”

Hwanwoong’s cheeks burn. “Shut up.”

“I’d love to.” Then he adds, “... is it safe to put this behind us?”

Hwanwoong believes he’s learned everything he needs to know to let go. No way in hell will he allow this issue that doesn’t involve him affect his life anymore.

(Okay, easier said than done. But still.)

He’s grinning from ear to ear at his best friend. “Yeah. Thanks, Keonhee.”

“No problem. Now let’s make up for lost time and hang out today.”

  
  


They’re sprawled in different corners of Hwanwoong’s room later that day, feasting on cookies and ice cream Hwanwoong’s mother bought for them and scrolling mindlessly through their phones. Hwanwoong sits up and swallows his mouthful of cookie before he pipes up. “Hey, did you ever get a call or text from Dongju?”

Keonhee, leaning comfortably against the bed with a spoon hanging from his mouth, glances at him. “No, why?”

Hwanwoong scoots closer to him. “His parents are supposedly out of the house for the weekend, so he and his brother are running wild and want to see their friends and “friends” while they have the chance.” He beams. “He’s free to hang out with us for the first time this year.”

Keonhee frowns. “Why didn’t he text me? I thought  _ we _ were friends!”

Uh oh. Did he just step on a landmine? “You are. Maybe something came up?”

“I sure hope so, because he’s getting an earful from me.” The taller male huffs dramatically, shoving a massive spoonful of cookies and cream ice cream in his mouth. “I’m so hurt.”

The blonde male pats his friend on the back. “He has his reasons. Hey! If he’s free, we should call him up!”

“You do it.”

“Alright.” And he does, eagerly swiping through apps until he’s calling their youngest friend. Keonhee startles Hwanwoong by snatching his phone away, quickly eliciting protests. “Hey! I thought you wanted  _ me _ to talk to him!”

The older male ignores him while he patiently waits for the boy in question to pick up. “Hey Ju. You busy?”

_ “Not really. Is this Hee hyung?” _

“You bet your cute ass it is,” he grumbles, pressing the speaker button. “I’m mad at you! Like, really mad!”

Of course Dongju would be confused.  _ “... Why?” _

Keonhee gasps. “Did you just ask me  _ why, _ Son Dongju? I’ll tell you why!”

Hwanwoong groans, outstretched fingers barely able to make physical contact with his phone case as he tries to regain possession. “Keonhee, give me back my phone!”

“Not yet, Woong! I gotta show this punk who’s boss right now.”

_ “Oh God.” _

“Listen here, Ju. The bracelets I made you and Woong weren’t just some cheap old accessories!” He’s sinking onto the floor, somehow still successfully fending Hwanwoong off. “They were a symbol of our undying friendship! Yet here you are, only calling Woong to hang out and not even knowing  _ why  _ I would be upset about that! I can’t believe you could just discard me like I’m nothing!”

Hwanwoong gives up and dangles over the side of his mattress, arm falling to the floor. Welp; cats out of the bag now.

“Tell me, Son Dongju,” Keonhee cries loudly, “do my bracelets mean nothing to you!?”

Dongju is having a hard time pretending he isn’t laughing.  _ “What bracelets, hyung?” _

Keonhee gasps again. 

Hwanwoong lifts his head up again, but only slightly. “You never gave us friendship bracelets, Keonhee.”

“You too, Yeo Hwanwoong!? I need new friends!!” He dramatically returns the phone to Hwanwoong and bawls, obviously feining the tears as he rolls over onto his stomach and falls motionless. The dancer just watches with a smirk.

_ “... it’s quiet now. Did he lose his will to live?” _

Hwanwoong chuckles again. “Probably, yeah.”

_ “RIP to Hee hyung. He will be missed.”  _ Dongju’s phone picks up shuffling sounds followed by a door closing shut, and after a moment, he’s talking louder and more clearly.  _ “Sorry, my brother jumped on the phone too. I’m in my room now.” _

The dancer shrugs to no one. “It’s okay.”

_ “To be honest, I don’t have much of an excuse. I didn’t message him about the hang out because I forgot. But of course I want him there.” _

“I knew you would, Ju,” Hwanwoong pinned his gaze on his roommate’s listless body. “I knew you would.”

_ “More importantly, I’m glad my hyungs are okay.” _

Hwanwoong’s smile slightly falters, realizing the moment after the sentence was spoken, he was making eye contact with a now sitting Keonhee.

_ “When you told me you two weren’t really getting along, Hwanwoong hyung, it worried me. I thought there was a nasty fight or something.”  _ He pauses for a moment, the quiet giving the roommates time to exchange knowing smiles.  _ “Um, I know it’s none of my business, but could you tell me what happened?” _

Keonhee hums. “It  _ was _ a secret only those who take good care of my friendship charms can learn, but we’ll make an exception for you, Dongju.”

They could practically picture the high schooler rolling his eyes.  _ “Uh huh, okay. Thanks. I feel so special.” _

“The main point was that Hwanwoong was— or still is, maybe— gay for an asshole.” Keonhee begins counting on his fingers as he lists his points. “This guy’s straight, he’s sleeping around, and none of that would be a problem if he didn’t just do this weird temporary dating thing with girls who like him. He’s just really tasteless and inconsiderate.”

It still somewhat pains Hwanwoong to listen to his friend spew such bitter things like this. As morally depraved as it sounds for this man to carelessly juggle these girls' hearts as though they were fragile playthings, it just isn’t in Hwanwoong’s nature to judge a stranger by his life choices, no matter how much of a scandal they are.

And honestly, it isn’t usually Keonhee’s, either. This was the dancer’s first time seeing the taller male speaking so poorly about someone else, and it’s scaring him.

_ “I remember the temporary dating details. Hwanwoong told me about them yesterday.”  _ Keonhee glances back to his roommate, waiting for Dongju to continue;  _ “It’s really odd. Does he do it just for fun?” _

“That’s all we can assume,” Hwanwoong admits, embracing a pillow with his free arm. “I bumped into him at a school game and made him drop all of his love letters once. There were at least twenty in his bag, I’m sure. And if he’s really been doing this for four years like Keonhee said, it’s gotta be an established system.”

“Right?” Keonhee huffs, though the frustration in his voice doesn’t match the hurt in his eyes when he watches Hwanwoong speak.

_ “I wonder if he’s dated guys before.” _

Hwanwoong opens his mouth to reply, but not a single sound spills forth. Keonhee is wearing the same look, and he, too, has a hard time saving the air from growing silent.

They hear laughter on the other end.  _ “What? I know it’s a random point, but come on. You guys haven’t wondered that at all?” _

“No, I haven’t.” The oldest male begins to lose himself in thought. “To be honest, it is a good question.”

Hwanwoong’s heart is doing tricks, but he’s doing his best to trick himself into believing otherwise. “Maybe so, maybe not. He could just throw those letters away. Who knows?”

Keonhee smirks. “Hey Woong, wanna find out? I bet you do.”

“Aren’t you the one who asked to put this behind us?” Hwanwoong protests. “How are we gonna do that if we’re actively engaging him?”

_ “Hyung, knowing you, you’ll still want to try.” _

“Agreed,” the taller male nods. “Look, as much as I don’t like him, maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Hwanwoong deadpans, “He tears my confession to shreds and I cry for a whole month straight.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a loss to me. So, wanna make the letter?”

There’s no winning here, not when they’re ganging up on him and teaming up with the ever growing curiosity in his head. What if by some off chance he really  _ does _ earn Ravn’s attention for a week? The relationship could be short term for all he cares, but the idea of actually establishing a permanent friendship with the human eye candy is invigorating. He shouldn’t be this excited. He shouldn’t be experiencing this burst of adrenaline right now; but he is, undeniably so, and it takes every last bit of willpower to stop his body from jerking around on its own and keeping his composure. 

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes and swears the tiniest smile he’s sporting is still invisible. “Okay, okay. But I’m not making it.”

“Hell yeah!” Keonhee declares with a triumphant laugh. “Dongju, ask your brother to give us a ride. We’re going letter shopping for Woong.”

_ “I have a better idea. I’ll call Geonhak instead.” _

“Do it! Now it’s a party!”

His friends are absolutely wild, and they are not helping to kill his curiosity one bit. Should they? Hwanwoong huffs, wishing they would. He’s starting to share poor Geonhak’s sentiment of needing new friends. Not better ones, no. Just ones that didn’t operate on the same last functioning brain cell he does.

“Ah, I’m in serious trouble now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys again for the loveliest comments you leave me. I wouldn’t have my motivation and creativity if it weren’t for you all!!
> 
> This chapter is a tad shorter to make up for the last one, but things will definitely pick up soon.
> 
> See you next week!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is positive reinforcement or encouragement something Hwanwoong is looking for? Perhaps one more outside opinion would help him find that answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! School got in the way of writing, but at long last, I can put out a chapter update that I’m proud of!
> 
> Hope you’re looking forward to the surprise I promised!

The more they talk about it, the more Hwanwoong is convinced this is the stupidest idea he ever went with in his life.

He and Keonhee are standing outside of a Starbucks, bundled up in light sweaters and masks to fend off the autumn chill as they wait for the other half of their company to arrive. Hwanwoong’s house is further south from the college, and the mall they agreed to meet at is a fifteen minute drive past that, but Hwanwoong’s mom had just left for the day to run errands, so the two adults were left to venture to their rendezvous point on foot. It didn’t take more than an hour to get there, but Hwanwoong’s nose is already cold to the touch.

So is Keonhee’s, his guess based on the older’s newest string of complaints.

“Ah, it’s freezing out today,” he shivers. “It’s definitely fall season now.”

Hwanwoong nods, pulling his jacket tighter around his neck. “Yeah. I should have brought my scarf.”

Keonhee shoves his hands into his pockets. “Me too. It was colder this morning but it never hit me. Maybe it’s because we stopped walking, what do you think?”

“You’re right.” Hwanwoong watches as cars packed along the street crawl past them, attempting to see if he could recognize his friends’ faces inside one of them. “Hey, but what are we doing standing out here for? They know to meet us inside!”

Keonhee blinked. “Oh. Good idea.”

They push the doors open, welcomed by the warm air and the powerful scent of coffee. Hwanwoong feels ten degrees hotter almost instantly. “See? It’s better in here.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” The taller male’s eyes are fixated on the menu. “Should we order something while we wait?”

Hwanwoong smirks. “Are you paying?”

Keonhee snorts. “For myself? Absolutely.”

The dancer playfully rolls his eyes, humming a small tune. “Hmm, I don’t know. Last I remember, you never paid up for the $50 you owed me last month.”

The color draining from Keonhee’s face is exactly the reaction Hwanwoong was waiting for. “You’re kidding…”

“Nope. I’d like for you to pay for my drink, please.”

Keonhee whines while reaching for his wallet. “Damn it… I completely forgot about that stupid bet.” He’s opening the flap and counting the contents, which probably wasn’t much if his scrunched face says anything, and frowns at Hwanwoong. “What do you want?”

“A latte,” the blonde sings, rotating his torso left and right as he stands in place. “And since it’s fall, can I have the pumpkin spice one?”

His roommate sighs. “Fine. Let’s go.”

There’s a small line, probably with one or two pairs of people ahead of them, that the crew behind the counter works through. Hwanwoong is still reading the options on the menu despite having decided what he wanted, several other holiday drinks piquing slight interest as he subconsciously proceeds forward when the line shortens. He’s not sure if Keonhee’s voice is now directed towards him, as he had been whining about the depletion of funds in his bank account for the past minute. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Nah, not really,” he shrugs, frustratedly shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “Hey, I think we’re up now.”

He’s right. It’s just the register in front of them. They didn’t have to wait too long at all. “What are you getting, hyung?”

Keonhee is staring at the menu. “Nothing too sweet, maybe… well, maybe just an Americano.”

Hwanwoong smirks. “The usual, then?”  _ If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, _ is something Keonhee would usually say, but he’s too stunned to respond. His eyes are the size of dinner plates and his jaw would hit the floor if it could; the dancer is left wondering why he’s wearing such a face until their barista greets them.

“Hello there, what can I get you?”

Hwanwoong turns to face the man behind the computer, mouth open to respond, but his friend’s loud voice beats him to the punch.  _ “Seoho!?” _

Hwanwoong would have died laughing if his anxiety didn’t spike through the roof just now. The brunet in front of them is gorgeous, and of course not a person the shorter male has met before; although the cosmetics over his eyes and lips remind him much of Ravn, his overall beauty is quite different, and probably most similar to Geonhak’s gracefulness, so it’s really no wonder his best friend is always nutting over his tutor. He and Dongju must have the same taste in men, then.

Seoho spends only a second registering his customers' faces before grinning widely. “Hey there Keonhee. Fancy meeting you here. Are you enjoying your weekend?”

“Maybe,” he sputters, side stepping behind Hwanwoong, “or maybe I’m just doing a coffee run so I could get back to my homework!” 

If this pretty face is capable of the rage Keonhee harbors an irrational fear of, Hwanwoong is certainly having a hard time picturing it. Seoho is smiling so brightly from his eyes and lips that he’s unsure if anger is even an emotion the upperclassman can feel.

“Keonhee, It’s fine. I’m not your tutor today. I’m a barista,” Seoho hums, pressing a hand to his chest for emphasis. “I won’t get mad at you because you’re hanging out with your friends.”

The taller male peers over his roommate’s shoulder. “You’re… you’re  _ not?” _

“Why should I?” He must be waiting for that false sense of security to display itself on his pupil, because he looks a little too pleased to crush it; “I’m not getting paid to be mad right now.”

Keonhee’s cheeks, originally rosy pink, lose all of their color.

Hwanwoong quickly brings the topic away from Keonhee’s grades, waving until the barista’s eyes fall on him. “Um, hi. It’s nice to meet you, Seoho-sunbaenim. I’m Hwanwoong, his roommate.”

Seoho waves, his smile still strong. “Hi Hwanwoong. It’s great to meet you too! You’re not in his math class too, are you?”

The dancer shakes his head. “No, I’m not. But we’ve been friends since high school.”

“I see. Has Keonhee always had issues with math?”

Hwanwoong can only imagine his friend’s ever growing discomfort. He shrugs, “I kinda just blamed it on our teachers, really. Everyone was failing by the end of second semester.”

Seoho looks unconvinced, but even as he’s giving them a disapproving stare, he looks absolutely ethereal. It’s still hard to believe someone this beautiful has become a profound presence in his best friend’s life. “Well, if it’s the teachers then, it really can’t be helped. Anyway…” he drops the subject with a smirk, “like I said, I’m not a tutor today. I’m Lee Seoho the barista, in charge of everyone’s crazy coffee drinks. What can I do for you today?”

Hwanwoong chuckles. How cool is he? “I’d like a pumpkin spice latte, please. And whatever Keonhee wants because he’s paying.”

Seoho’s smug smile only grows as he plugs the drink in the register. “Oh? That’s nice of you, Keonhee. What are you getting?”

Hwanwoong’s best friend nervously clears his throat. “I’m not sure yet…”

“Well, you better hurry because you have people waiting on you.”

The dancer absently looks behind him and instantly recognizes both faces on the couple. “Oh! Hey Ju, Geonhak! I didn’t see you come in!”

Dongju closes the distance as he hugs him, and Hwanwoong notes just how much taller the high schooler has gotten over the past year (it was between two to three centimeters, perhaps). “We know. I wanted to see how long it would take you guys to notice us.”

“About five minutes, more if Seoho wouldn’t have said anything,” Geonhak states. He waves when Seoho spots him. “Hey, hyung.”

Seoho’s grinning brightly now, and Hwanwoong’s heart is dancing at the fondness they seem to share for each other. “Hey, how are you? Long time no see. Is this the day I  _ finally _ get to meet your fiancé?”

The art director’s son chortles, hand clasped tightly around Dongju’s. “If you’ve got a minute.” The youngest waves shyly, his cute smile sure to win Seoho over the same way it did Keonhee when they had first met. “Dongju, this is Seoho. He is my friend and old math tutor.”

Dongju is laughing. “I’ve heard the name several times from Hee Hyung.” 

Silence.

It’s dead quiet, but all of their brains are spinning or short circuiting at once; all Hwanwoong knows for certain is that Keonhee is in hot water no matter what conclusion Seoho draws.

“Damn it, Son Dongju, are you  _ serious _ right now!?” Keonhee seethes, his face sporting a full blown blush. 

Seoho’s jaw drops, clearly offended. “So you  _ do  _ talk about me behind my back. I knew it!”

Dongju frowns when he realizes what he’s done. “Wai-wait. That’s not what I meant. It’s all good things, I promise!”

The eldest male pouts his lower lip, shooting daggers at Keonhee. “Please don’t say silly things and pretend he’s got a crush on me. Nothing can save him now.”

Geonhak and Hwanwoong’s mouths are also hanging open, but neither could produce a single word for a straight minute. 

(Well, Rest in peace, Lee Keonhee.)

Seoho is quick to draw the conversation back around, “Anyway, now that we’re all acquainted and no one is in line behind you, how about we get those drinks out?”

“Right,” Hwanwoong replies absently, discreetly patting Keonhee’s arm. “You have my order.”

The barista gives a slight nod of acknowledgement. “Yeah. Do you two know what you want?”

“I don’t drink coffee. Maybe just water,” Geonhak answers. “And are we all paying together?”

“Sure,” Keonhee shrugs. Hwanwoong hopes his pride isn’t as damaged as it should have been. “I’ll have a hot Americano, then. And then whatever Dongju wants.”

The youngest stares at the menu. “I’ll have a hot green tea. Or a hot latte. Whichever is more expensive for Hee hyung.”

(The last sentence earns him a look that clearly reads:  _ careful, you tread on thin ice.  _ Hwanwoong snorts, but doesn’t want to laugh.)

“Okay, so one pumpkin spice latte, one water, one Americano, and one… hot latte?” Seoho recites, eyeing Dongju for confirmation. When he receives it in Dongju’s nod, his fingers catch up with the list and then dance on the screen some more. “... and finally, a white mocha with toffee nut.”

The group of men are confused. Keonhee blurts, “I didn’t order that!”

“Of course not. I did,” Seoho winks at him, almost giggles at the nervous meltdown the younger male practically has, and clarifies, “It's on the house, don’t worry. If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to join you for my lunch.”

  
  
  


And that’s how Hwanwoong’s inner circle seemed to both grow and finally reconnect after a long time. 

He and his best friend were inseparable, this morning having proved that fact. Maybe someday in the future, the barista that was also Keonhee’s tutor will carry the title of being his boyfriend if life gave him the chance and Keonhee played his cards right. He’s sitting here face to face with Dongju in the flesh, their being in each other’s company like this as rare as a blue moon, but even rarer so must be his moments here with Geonhak. If Hwanwoong thinks about it, this is probably the first time in a long time he’s seen them together like this, with a respectable distance apart but the hidden interlocked fingers below the table.

(Only for that moment, he imagines  _ him _ there with them.

(What would that be like?)

“So why join us when this is your only time to yourself?” Keonhee asks Seoho curiously, who is seated at the end of the table swirling his drink.

The oldest male takes a sip from the straw. “Well, just because I  _ do _ know everyone here. I’ll only be here for a minute. What are you all up to today?”

Geonhak shrugs. “It’s something Dongju and Keonhee planned, I guess. I’m just the ride.”

“And his other half, obviously,” Hwanwoong chirps. “It’s nice to finally see them together after all this time of being away from one another.”

Dongju smiles fondly.

Seoho rests his chin in his hand. “I was starting to think I’d never get to meet his boyfriend. Geonhak and I don’t share the same schedules anymore.”

Hwanwoong asks politely, “You’re a math tutor too, right? Or do you teach other subjects too?”

The barista nods. “I tutor for physics too. That subject has always been something of a guilty pleasure of mine, I guess.”

Keonhee rolls his eyes. “Can’t relate.”

“But you would think that would be what my major was, or assume that was where it fell along.” Seoho chuckles, gloss-coated straw against his smooth lips. “It’s not. Funny, right?”

Hwanwoong blinks. “Maybe it’s not expected, but it’s not unusual. A couple of my friends are pretty good at academics but they’re in dance or art.”

“Ah. I see. Well it’s the same for me; I’m a singer.”

Keonhee’s drink must have caught in his throat; it’s the only way to explain his subsequent coughing fit. Dongju ignores the scene he’s causing and replies with, “I want to do something like that when I enter college too.”

Seoho grins. “Yeah, you’re still in high school, aren’t you Dongju? You’ve got a little while to go. But it’s good that you know what you want. Not that not having an idea when you enroll in university is a crime, though, in case you’re still undecided.”

“Like me,” Hwanwoong’s roommate deadpans, waving his hand for further effect.

Geonhak shakes his head. “There’s no time limit to figuring it out, but there is only so much your wallet can take.”

Hwanwoong laughs dryly. “Yeah; that’s school for you.”

The conversations flow rather smoothly, despite the awkward air that made itself a resident at their table. Keonhee submits to being the punching bag of their discussions, and Dongju with being the inexperienced baby, but discomfort they feel is temporarily forgotten with every laugh they share.

Seoho sets his half empty cup down. “That reminds me, I never got my answer: what brings you all together today?”

Dongju answers before Hwanwoong’s attempt at shrinking away becomes noticeable. “We’re helping construct a love letter for someone here.”

The oldest tilts his head. “You’re doing  _ what?  _ Writing a love letter?”

“Yeah. For the most popular guy in school.”

Seoho’s eyes rapidly dart between the youngest and his fiancé, as though their eyes alone could tell him what he was missing. “I’m not following. The only person that comes to mind when I hear “popular” is Geonhak.”

“It’s not me,” the older dancer assures. “But only Keonhee can answer that question.”

Hwanwoong’s roommate clears his throat. Hwanwoong knows he’s discreetly signaling to him while he waves a hand dismissively, “Hmm… I wonder if we should come clean. Ju, Woong, what do you two think?”

Dongju’s response was expected; “As long as the hyungs are comfortable.”

It really just comes down to Hwanwoong. How silly he’d sound admitting the truth about their project (that he honestly wouldn’t have taken part of if his curiosity wasn’t given a pedestal by an overly eager audience). It’s a stranger’s judgment he finds that he fears almost as much as the possibility of rejection itself, but if Keonhee and Geonhak, and even Dongju put their faith in this person, then perhaps Hwanwoong should, too. 

(He did just imagine a scenario where said person would become his best friend’s significant other, after all.)

He relents. “It’s a letter for me to give to someone. I just…” He has to muster enough strength to not crumble under the weight of Seoho’s gaze; “I just don’t know what to write and how to give it to them.”

Seoho seems to relax after the confusion subsides. “Good for you, Hwanwoong-ssi. I hope it all goes well, whomever that person may be.”

“That’s the thing!” he suddenly blurts.

The table grows quiet. The oldest frowns, left once again to figure out what Hwanwoong’s latest words mean. “... Right. Dongju said this person was super popular, right?”

The dancer nods. “Yeah.”

Keonhee rests his chin in his hand. “Not just that, but this guy’s system is gonna complicate the whole confession.”

Seoho pauses. The next time Hwanwoong makes eye contact with him, the color has drained from his face. “System? Don’t tell me… it’s not Ravn, is it?”

Jeez, even Seoho knew. Hwanwoong wants to laugh, but a weak whine slips past his lips instead. “It  _ is  _ him.”

The saddened look says it all. “Oh my God… Hwanwoong-ssi. Of all the people for your heart to pick, it picks an idiot…”

Keonhee mutters under his breath. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“Ravn?” Geonhak echoes. “The senior majoring in music production?”

“That’s him,” The barista confirms with a sigh. He’s mid sentence when an alarm set on his phone begins to chime, announcing the untimely end of his break. “Ah… of course it goes off now. I’m sorry to drop the conversation here, but just before I go, I wanted to say that I’ve been in your shoes, Hwanwoong. Ravn hyung is a bit dense, and maybe you won’t get an answer right away, but he won’t throw that letter away. You’ll get a chance to talk to him as long as you’re willing to wait for it.”

Hwanwoong watches absently as Seoho rises from his seat and gathers his belongings. Did he just refer to him as hyung? “Wait— how did you know that was what I was afraid of?”

“I’ve done what you’re doing now. We were together for seven whole days, but it took him a few weeks to find my letter.” The oldest male smiles warmly at him as he gently pats his shoulder. “He’s also my lame best friend.”

(Oh. Well that changes everything.)

The barista is waving back to everyone else at the table. “Thanks again for keeping me company on my break. Good luck to everyone who needs it.”

“You too hyung,” Geonhak sets his hand down. “Don’t tire yourself out.”

Seoho giggles. “Don’t be silly, Geonhak. I’m on fire right now.” He winks at the couple before sliding his chair in, setting his drink down on a counter so that he could tie his apron around his torso on his way to the kitchen.

The table is quiet only for another second until Keonhee plants his face on the table. “Oh my god, he hates me.”

Hwanwoong half-asses his extension of comfort, patting his back awkwardly. “He doesn’t hate you, Keonhee.”

“Yes he does! He thinks I’m an idiot with no redeeming qualities.”

Dongju nibbles away at his straw. “Mm, I somewhat disagree. He found your lame jokes funny.”

Geonhak flashes him a perplexed look. “He didn’t laugh once.”

“Shh,” he hushes, leaning into his boyfriend, “the point is to help Hee Hyung feel better.” 

Keonhee hiccups a fake sob. “You guys are the worst.”

The high schooler turns his attention to Hwanwoong. “Well hyung, are you ready to make your letter?”

Hwanwoong, having been wishing the whole time that the spotlight stay off of him, sighs in defeat. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. At least I know he won’t throw it away.”

Dongju hums. “He may not even get around to it either. But you still want to try, don’t you?”

“Of course not,” he replies too quickly, forced to rethink the words when the eyes of his peers fall on him, “... is what I wanna say. But honestly, I do.”

“Then let’s get back to it,” His roommate peels his head away from the tabletop. “To the arts and crafts store?”

Dongju chuckles, “To the arts and crafts store. Let’s make the letter as pretty as can be.”

  
  


——

  
  


Hwanwoong’s arms are stubbornly crossed in front of his chest. “I said I wasn’t gonna be the one to write it.”

The four friends are now crowded around the wide desk in Keonhee’s room, leaning over Hwanwoong’s shoulder and towering over him as they discuss what should make it onto the paper. Keonhee pulls on the chair and gestures for Hwanwoong to get off. “Alright then, I’ll write it. But let me tell you, you’re gonna regret not having creative control over what we come up with!”

The dancer gets up with a huff. “If it sounds stupid, the paper’s gonna end up in the trash.”

Dongju hums. “By your hand or Ravn-ssi’s?”

“Shut up, Ju.”

Geonhak is beside Dongju, the second most skeptical about the letter’s construction. “I really think Hwanwoong should be the one to write it. Maybe we should just help him if he gets stuck.”

Keonhee is about to sit, pausing to consider Geonhak’s words. “Good point. Alright Woong, sorry about that. Back in the chair you go.”

Hwanwoong snorts and returns to his seat. “Okay.”

“What are you opening with?” Dongju asks him, chin resting on his friend’s head. 

Hwanwoong stares at the cutely decorated paper and the stylish pen in his hands, ransacking his brain for at least a greeting worthy enough to make the cut. “I’m… I’m not sure.”

The older dancer points to the paper. “You definitely have to say your name.”

_ “My _ name?” Hwanwoong squeaks, growing flustered.

“No, your twin sister’s,” Dongju rolls his eyes. “Yes hyung,  _ your _ name. Put down something like  _ “hi Ravn-sunbaenim, my name is Hwanwoong,”  _ or… maybe something like  _ “I hope this letter reaches you in good health.” _ ”

Plausible ideas. Hwanwoong’s cheeks burn again. “Maybe.”

Keonhee snickers. “Imagine if in a separate letter someone told him he looks delicious when he walks. Do you think someone wrote that to him already?”

Geonhak stares at Keonhee while the younger male shrugs. “Why would Hwanwoong write that? Do  _ you _ think he looks delicious?”

Keonhee’s shoulders jerk up and down again. “Don’t we all though? Dongju thinks that about you all the time.”

Geonhak’s face burns. Dongju shoots back at him, “And you do the same when it comes to Seoho-sunbae. Aha, that’s what I thought.”

“Hey guys, I’m still stuck,” Hwanwoong brings their wandering attention back onto him, revealing new lines on the paper to his friends but waiting for more insight. “What else do I write?”

Geonhak thinks. “... Maybe ask to get to know him better?”

Dongju frowns. “That’s too basic. Offer to take him to lunch or dinner.”

Keonhee is trying so hard to swallow his laughter. “I’m still standing by my idea that he should tell him about his ass.”

Hwanwoong presses the button end of the pen against his lip as he runs each idea through his head (though Keonhee’s ends up thrown out in a split second). “Hyung, I should be careful with what I write. He still might be straight.”

“But even Seoho-ssi admitted they dated before,” Dongju argues. “Sure, don’t listen to Hee hyung, but you don’t have to be scared.”

The younger dancer is staring at the paper again. Perhaps it’ll just do him good to write anything that comes to mind and revise it later; if he keeps playing editor while barely conjuring things to say, the letter will never be finished and his evil friends will never let this go. 

“Okay,” he summons determination and connects ink to page, “hang on, hang on. I think I got this.”

The other three decide to back off and simply spectate his work, with Keonhee wearing nothing but a wide grin on his face. “Go for it.”

  
  


Finally, his love letter is complete.

  
  


_ Hi Ravn-sunbaenim, _

_ I hope this letter reaches you in good health. My name is Yeo Hwanyoung. This is my first year in university, but I saw you at my first football game a few months before, and I thought I really wanted to meet you. I’m too afraid to give this to you in person, but when we meet, I’ll have the courage to give you my feelings then. _

_ Sorry for the trouble and thank you. _

_ Yeo Hwanyoung _

_ +1 (XXX) XXX-XXXX _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also yes, they are in America, hahaha.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying Love Raffle. As I’m reaching 100 kudos and 20 comments, I would love to tell each and every one of you just how much you mean to me. We embarked on this journey together, and I really couldn’t have gotten this far with the story without your support and encouragement.
> 
> Please look forward to the next chapter, and have a save and happy Friday!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the letter was done, All Hwanwoong has to do is deliver it. Easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I... have no excuse this time except for Majora’s Mask.

The letter is wedged loosely in Hwanwoong’s binder, lost in a sea of old tests and new notes for his Health class. And although it would take a minute or two to find it if he searched, it certainly only took his brain a second to recall the anxiety it gives him.

And as if that wasn’t enough on his plate, as of this Monday, October would be halfway over. It’s the 16th, which means only a little under two months before finals and before his big dance recital. 

He’s not one to crack under pressure. In fact, he’s ready for it.

He’s not sure if he’s ready to deliver the envelope, though.

Papers fly onto his desk the second his Physical Health class begins. With only eight weeks to go, testing materials are making the rounds, and Hwanwoong is more than prepared. With the many hours of sleep lost and the number of iced americanos logged onto his bank’s transaction history, he’s sure the sacrifices are worth it for his grade.

But he receives his graded quiz two days later with almost half of his answers marked incorrectly. He vaguely remembers holding onto his papers, reading and rereading every question over and over again, pretending the red ink doesn’t exist. It doesn’t exist, it  _ shouldn’t _ . He knows the material like the back of his hand. Each class he’s registered for this semester compliments the other two; there’s no way he couldn’t understand everything about physical health and nutrition.

So why did Yeo Hwanwoong  _ fail? _

“It’s just a bad day,” he grumbles as his teeth gnaw on his lip. The test gets shoved in his bag. “Just a slip up.”

His phone rings with the same familiar ringtone he’s given to all of his friends (what can he say except that he just loves Sunmi’s music), and his hand reaches for his pocket. It’s Keonhee, and judging by the time, he’s probably on his way to his tutoring session. “Hello?”

_ “Hey Woong, what’s up? Are you busy right now?” _

The dancer swallows his rising disappointment and shakes his head, his voice thankfully as steady as he needs it to be. “No, I’m not. Are you okay?”

Keonhee laughs on the other end.  _ “I’m great, actually. Hey; Jia-ssi is looking for you. She says she tried calling you but that you didn’t pick up.” _

Hwanwoong gasps when he takes a long look at his phone. She probably tried to reach him during his class. “Oh, really? Thanks for telling me. I’ll call her back right now.”

_ “Cool. See you later today.” _

His teeth avoid a newfound crack in his lip. “Yeah. See you.”

  
  


Jia was looking for someone to fill her spot in the concessions for the upcoming football game on Friday. Apparently she had a family arrangement she didn’t hear about until last minute and couldn’t cancel on. 

It was fine with him. He might have to miss half of the game, but he isn’t too concerned about that. Not when he’s got extra studying to worry about. So much for free time.

He can’t overcome this feeling of defeat, but maybe doing something outside his routine will shift his focus and help him clear his mind.

What’s the reason for this lack of concentration? He has no idea, and the mystery haunts him for the rest of the week.

———

“Thanks for doing this again, Hwanwoong-ssi,” his upperclassmen (and coworker?) Wheein calls to him from the back, carrying a pack of sodas to the table they had just set up by the stands. “You must have been busy today. Want me to buy you lunch for the favor?”

The dancer shakes his head with a lopsided grin. “That’s okay, I’m just happy to help.” His eyes drink in his surroundings, the tables decorated with assorted snacks and drinks. In the corner of the concessions rests the popcorn and pizza machines, both on and empty for now. And who could forget the nacho station? Hwanwoong’s mouth waters as he plans to walk out of his shift with one of everything in his arms. “Where will you have me?”

His senior schoolmate arranges everything on the tables and approaches him, pointing to their cash register. “You’ll be ringing our sales, since it might be too dangerous for you to be on other things. You’ll need training and stuff.”

Hwanwoong agrees. “Ah… okay. Wait.” It finally sinks in. “I’m on the  _ register?” _

She giggles at the dumbfounded look he’s wearing. “Yes! Do you know how to work that, at least? You have a job, right?”

“I don’t.”

Her smile slightly falters. “Really? Oh, well it’s simple. Here, let me show you.” She sits beside him and pulls out a five dollar bill. “Really easy. You just take someone’s money and give them their change. If they’re paying with a card, it’s run through this guy here.” She motions to the pin pad in front of them. “But they handle that stuff, with their pin and all. What do you think? Can you do it?”

It’s probably the idea of talking to a ton of people and making mistakes that’s got him clamming up and his heart racing. “Yeah. It seems easy.”

She examines him. “You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot in here,” he replies coolly. “My anxiety tells me so.”

Wheein slips her money away with a giggle. “You’ll be fine. If you need me, I’ll be right here.”

He weakly nods when she steps off the seat and drags it with her to the food stations. Is this what having a job feels like? When he was fresh out of high school, Yeo Hwanwoong was petrified of becoming an employee someplace, even though it’s bound to happen eventually. Maybe instead of running from it, he should be engaging with this kind of environment further.

Thanks to his mother's generosity, he can take as long as he’d like before it becomes an urgent matter.

“Hey, sunbaenim,” he catches her attention. “Is it the student body that runs the concessions here? They’re in charge of the events at school, right?”

She confirms it with a nod. “That’s right. Something like that. Why do you ask?”

(Granted, his grade probably took a hard hit thanks to his last quiz score, but it’s something he’d like to try.)

“I’d like to join. Please let me volunteer and help as much as you need me.”

The older student can’t help but chuckle. “You’re so cute. Okay, if you want to. Maybe you can come by and help next week too, but first, let’s see if you can make it through tonight.”

Easy enough. He inhales deeply and let’s that breath invigorate him. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  
  


Did he say it would be easy? He lied; he absolutely lied to himself. Or was he just fooled?

His very first customer is none other than the very last person he was prepared to see— Kim Youngjo.

No sooner did the sun begin to dip below the horizon and the shutters fly open did the senior student approach the register completely immersed into his phone. Hwanwoong’s heart is hammering away in his chest; not only does he have to  _ look _ at this man and maintain  _ eye contact _ with him, he also has to  _ talk _ to him. But how is Hwanwoong supposed to do that, when Ravn’s gorgeously painted lips occasionally tuck behind teeth so cutely like that?

It was nice to humor the idea of being a member of the associates student organization for a short period of time.

“He… hello,” he squeaks a greeting, voice too low to lure the other male’s attention away from his phone. However, the upperclassman glances up naturally when he gets close enough to the counter anyway, his eyes finding Hwanwoong. The dancer tries again. “Hi. What can I get you?”

Ravn’s face brightens as though he recognized Hwanwoong, but he doesn’t greet him the way he expected him to if he did. “Hello. I didn’t know concessions would be open this soon.”

There was a set time? Well, nothing he could do about it now that he’s accepting business. “Me neither. It’s my first time back here, and they told me to open right now.”

“Ah.” The senior student’s attention shifts to the menu board hanging above the dancer. “Well, here’s to hoping it won’t be too rough on you.”

_ It already is, _ the blonde wishes he could say. But that would be rude, and his tongue is too comfortable hiding behind his teeth.

His unsuspecting customer whips out his wallet. “I’ll have three cans of Sprite. That’s all.”

Hwanwoong nods and plugs the price into the register in front of him. “Three Sprites? That’s gonna be $6.” Without waiting for Ravn to extract the bills from his wallet first, Hwanwoong’s feet carry him to the sodas they have on the side to scoop the cans and return to his post at the computer. “Here you go.”

The money is sitting on the counter waiting for him, but Hwanwoong is barely paying attention to anything but how well blended the lovely shades of brown are on Ravn’s eyelids. It isn’t often he sees other men wearing makeup if it isn’t on TV or in movies, or any of his friends. He can’t help but wonder how Ravn discovered this identity of his, and if he’s comfortable in his own skin. He looks like an idol, as beautiful as he must be strong. Did he have to go through hell to get here?

(Perhaps one day Hwanwoong will find that same strength when it’s his turn to come out.)

“Thank you,” Ravn accepts the cans and slips one away in his jacket pocket, opening the other and taking a small sip from it. “Good luck today.”

Hwanwoong opens his mouth to reply when the upperclassman starts to walk away, but his eyes catch sight of something sitting on the counter. “Hey, wait! You forgot a can.”

Ravn turns to him and grins. “That’s yours. Take it easy.”

Oh. How sweet of him.

Hwanwoong’s cheeks are tingling again. “Thank you, sunbaenim.” Now is his one chance to say something else to him. “Oh, and one more thing— I really love your makeup!”

He’s wearing a smile when Ravn stares back at him, and perhaps it’s not a compliment the older male receives often if his first instinct (and corresponding expression) is pure shock. It saddens Hwanwoong at first, if he’s honest, but the subsequent coy smile he earns causes him to quickly forget anything else. The upward curls of Ravn’s lips seem more natural now, and he’s laughing shyly, leaving Hwanwoong to ask himself why he thinks he has a chance with him.

His final words to Hwanwoong before he returns to his current girlfriend’s side were a small but still gentle, “Thank you.”

And that interaction, just like the last, was over too soon.

  
  


——

  
  


“How was your first day working at a “job,” Woong?” Keonhee greets him outside the campus grounds when Hwanwoong returns to their dorms the following Monday morning. “You’d always been afraid of working since we were getting ready to graduate high school.”

Hwanwoong chokes out a laugh. “Well, that hadn’t changed, let me tell you. I’m always clamming up when I talk to people I don’t know. I know I’m new and all, but it’s always gonna be scary.”

Keonhee snickers. “Imagine when they start complaining about how you made their coffee wrong.”

“Like what they probably do with Seoho-sunbae? No thanks, I’ll pass on that one.” Hwanwoong shakes his head. “His customer service level must be in the hundreds by now if he’s gotta be both a barista  _ and  _ your tutor.”

Keonhee shouts, “Hey! I don’t give him a hard time  _ all _ the time!” Hwanwoong is too busy immersed in the teasing to realize the time. “Anyway, I gotta run. I’ll catch you later, okay? And if you see you-know-who at all today, make sure to give him that letter! It’s been over a week now and I know you’ve seen him around!”

Hwanwoong groans. “Alright, I will.” The second Keonhee walks out the front door, Hwanwoong is left alone with his thoughts, the loudest berating him for missing his opportunity the previous Friday. In reality, how could he have given Ravn his letter while he played cashier and pretend student council member all in the same hour? 

Well, no time for excuses. The letter won’t deliver itself, and the later he waits, the less of a chance his confession will be drawn at all.

His class begins in a half hour, which usually gives him enough travel time to arrive at the door, but he’s racing down the steps and towards the hallways of the campus, realizing he’s got no lead on Ravn or his current girlfriend’s whereabouts this time. Since his classmates’ respective weeks have ended, Ravn hasn’t been haunting Hwanwoong’s classes anymore, so he is much harder to find.

No, Hwanwoong doesn’t have to run. But if he doesn’t find the senior soon, he’s gonna have a heart attack.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have run.

His foot catches in a crevice in the cement, his body falling forward with little time to recuperate. He’s forced to land on all fours in the grass. His book bag is (in)conveniently wide open, and every last paper crammed into its space spills straight onto the ground. 

“Shit,” he curses to himself, grateful for a softer floor but quickly burning as he pushes himself back up. He could just count the many number of eyes that fell on him; and per normal culture at universities, no one will rush to help him.

He begins gathering his papers when a shadow cascades over his head. “Are you okay?”

A male’s voice. It’s not any of his friends, but he recognizes it just the same— it’s Ravn. 

Hwanwoong meets his gaze, a mixture of relief and newfound embarrassment stirring in his stomach. “Yeah-yeah, I’m okay. My papers…”

“Here.” The upperclassman kneels down and gingerly collects the papers into a single pile. He’s mindful of the grass, the dancer notices, and he’s careful not to smear anything on the pages just in case the dirt happens to be wet. “Are you experiencing deja vu too?”

Hwanwoong listens to the fondness in his words, and the shame he previously felt fades away. Did he always have this soothing effect when he spoke? Either this is a new side to Ravn he just learned today due to their constant accidental encounters, or Hwanwoong was always too busy drowning in his own panic to notice it in the beginning. 

“I am,” He chortles, accepting the loose packet from the older male as he stands up. “Thank you for helping me.”

Ravn nods. “You’re welcome. If I remember correctly, your class was the other way, wasn’t it?”

Did he actually memorize his Monday schedule? It warrants a laugh, but Hwanwoong is only realizing now that he found what he was searching for, albeit inadvertently. Ravn was right here. “Yeah, but I was looking for you.”

“For me?”

Hwanwoong digs into his bag again. “Yeah. I have something I wanted to give you.” He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as his hands barely avoided slicing themselves open on the papers thrown inside unceremoniously, searching for the only lilac-colored envelope in a sea of other pages scribbled with red marks. Where was it? 

Ravn hums, having brought himself back up off the floor as well. “If it’s money for the Sprite, please don’t worry about it. I figured you could use a drink since you like soda a lot.”

Did he give off that impression when they first bumped into each other? Hwanwoong mentally slaps himself for it. “Ah, well thank you for that. But that’s not it… where did I put it?” He scans the ground around his feet. “Did it fall out? I don’t see it.”

The upperclassman shrugs. “I would love to help you, but I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

Hwanwoong’s heart sinks. His letter isn’t here. Did he leave it at home? He couldn’t have; he made sure it was in his bag.

Ravn slightly frowns when Hwanwoong stops frantically moving, curiously tilting his head. “Did you lose it?”

That must be it. He knew it was with him; even if he and his friends put a lot of work into its creation and care, there was no way it could have ended up elsewhere… unless it was still at his mom’s house. Hwanwoong sighs, tossing the bag’s flap closed in resignation. “Yeah. I guess I did. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“It’s nothing like that, I’m sorry you couldn’t find what you were looking for.” The brunet smiles again, and Hwanwoong feels even worse. “I’ll walk you to your class, if you don’t mind my company.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice...” And despite knowing both of his names, he looks at Ravn expectantly, “... um...”

The upperclassman slightly bows his head. “You can call me Ravn. And your name?”

Amazing. Perhaps he could walk out from this encounter with something a little better than a successful delivery; his acquaintanceship. “I’m Hwanwoong.” The dancer manages to grin. “It’s nice to finally learn the name of the guy you keep bumping into if you ask me.”

“Is it?” Ravn asks bemusedly, their steps falling in line as they make their way back towards Hwanwoong’s classroom.

Hwanwoong playfully pouts.  _ “I  _ thought so, but I’m up for unrequited appreciation.”

“No no, I’m glad it’s mutual.”

(Fifteen minutes later and friends and strangers alike are scraping the human puddle that is Yeo Hwanwoong off his desk just in time for the next quiz.)

  
  


It’s safe to say Hwanwoong is losing his mind.

Tuesday’s dance practice finally rolls around, and Hwanwoong knows Geonhak must be having a hard time refocusing his pupil, but the younger dancer himself doesn’t realize what he’s doing wrong, aside from what seems blatantly obvious. He’s forgetting steps too easily or messing up the order of the choreography in the song, sometimes even tripping over his own feet, which wouldn’t be problems per se, but the irritated thoughts and self-loathing that hatched in Hwanwoong’s mind won’t allow him to stop and breathe.

Just once more, once more. He just has to make this one step—

“Hwanwoong, maybe we should take a break.”

Hwanwoong gapes at his tutor before rapidly shaking his head. “I’m okay, Geonhak! Really! I’ll get it right this time.”

Geonhak’s face falls. “It’s not just because of that.” The older dancer’s gaze falls to the side. “It’s also because of my hip.”

Oh.

He hadn’t thought of that. Hwanwoong’s brain comes to a full stop and he instantly changes his mind. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t considered your hip! Yeah, let’s take a break!”

He doesn’t want to. He knows once more is just enough; Geonhak is probably starting to learn just how hard he really can be on himself.

They’re seated on the bench near lockers, Hwanwoong exasperatedly attempting to calm down by regulating his breathing. He isn’t aware the older male is watching him closely until he speaks up. “What’s on your mind?”

“Everything you can think of,” the shorter dancer admits. He pushes his hair back and away repeatedly so that the strands drenched in sweat don’t stick to his face. “Finals, the dance, and school… and then I wanted to join the student council, but I just failed my last test, and I don’t know what that would do to my grade...”

Geonhak‘s eyes are fixated on his feet. “That sounds really tough, Hwanwoong. Are you having troubles with school?”

Hwanwoong draws in a deep breath. “I didn’t think I was. I told myself it was just a bad day, but I’m really upset. I don’t want to let anyone down with how horrible I’m doing.”

“I see.” Dongju’s boyfriend rests his chin in his palm, losing himself in thought. “I think as long as you can balance your time so that you can take care of yourself too, your efforts won’t have to be as difficult. I know it’s much easier said than done, so feel free to disregard that.” 

Is that what it is? Just an imbalance of priorities?

Geonhak goes on. “Is anything else bothering you? You like to carry a lot on your plate.”

Hwanwoong thinks for a moment. What else has stood out to him this past weekend? Obviously the two run-ins with the one person that had comfortably made a home out of an ever growing anxiety in his head, especially now that they’ve formally introduced themselves to each other.

“Actually,” Hwanwoong mutters softly, “I think I became friends with Ravn sunbaenim.”

Geonhak sits back, surprised. “Really? When did you meet him?”

“Last Friday while I helped at concessions, and just yesterday. I tripped and dropped my papers in the grass, and Ravn happened to be there to help me.” Hwanwoong barely stops himself from smiling, just in case Geonhak would start teasing him too. “If anything, I wanted to give him the letter then, but I lost it somewhere and couldn’t find it.”

The older dancer observes him quietly. When Hwanwoong seems to have finished with his story, he replies with a small laugh, “I can imagine how bad that must feel. I do hope becoming his friend can make up for that somehow, and we can always help support you through writing another letter.”

Hwanwoong feels a hundred pounds lighter. He really doesn’t thank his friends enough for just how much they help him. “Thank you hyung. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad you opened up to me. You should never have to feel like you have to tackle everything you face by yourself.”

Somehow, Hwanwoong is reminded of his distant relationship with Dongju and wonders if his words now are a reflection of that. “I really don’t. Not as long as you guys can be honest with me too.”

Geonhak smirks. “To tell you the truth, I showed you most of my cards already.”

“Did you?” The dancer stands back up, ready to practice again. “You really don’t have anything new to share?”

“Not that I know of.”

Hwanwoong deflates. “I think you’re lying, but okay. I’m ready to go at the choreography again when you are.”

“Yeah, but first…” Geonhak brings a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, “I’ll let you in on a secret.” He draws the blonde in closer until his ear is less than a foot away, and he reveals, “I’m ring shopping.”

The younger male leaps up excitedly, almost knocking into his teacher. “I knew it! You  _ were _ hiding something else! Can I see what you have in mind?” 

“Sure.” Geonhak draws his cellphone from his pocket and pulls up his photo album. “But don’t fall in love with any of them for him; I’m still on a budget.”

Hwanwoong snorts. “No promises. I need to know what I would like for  _ my _ future husband to get.”

“If you say so.”

  
  


——

  
  


Ravn waves goodbye to his girlfriend as she makes her way up the steps to her apartment. “Have a good night. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“Good night, Ravn-ssi. Oh!” She stops the door from swinging open completely and glances down on him. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night with me? It’s a long drive home back to your mom’s house.”

He shakes his head. “Thank you for the offer, but I would love to drive. Text me the time you want to meet up tomorrow, and I can pick you up after work.”

She sticks her lower lip out, but upon receiving little attention for the cute gesture, nods her head. “Okay. Have a good day at work then!” Her figure disappears behind the door as it rolls shut after her, signaling Ravn’s cue to leave. 

He waits a full twenty seconds, pivots on his heel and ventures back towards his car, almost too slow to reply to the incoming phone call. “Yes mom, I’m on my way home now.”

_ “Not your mom, but okay,”  _ Seoho playfully scoffs on the other end, and Ravn almost rolls his eyes.  _ “But you probably figured that kind of response would work regardless of who picked up, right? Are you doing okay?” _

Ravn tucks his lip between his teeth, fumbling with the keys. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not often someone will break up with me so soon, but I don’t want to trouble them longer than they need me.”

_ “One of these days you’ll stop talking about yourself that way.” _

Sure, though “one of these days” can only stay as certain as an eventuality. 

_ “By the way, I know I’m not supposed to really tell you this,”  _ Ravn’s best friend clears his throat,  _ “but a friend of a friend of mine has something to give you in person. Have you met up with them yet?” _

Ravn considers the thought for a moment. “Maybe.” He emerges into the car, staving off the chilling wind while rummaging through papers and letters scattered on the floor of the passenger side. “Maybe not. But I ran into a gift by pure accident yesterday that was meant for me, if that counts.” His hand extracts a particular letter from the pile, the small dirt stains unable to subtract from the overall integrity of the lilac envelope. His eyes repeatedly trace over his name, smiling slightly. “What are the odds that we’re talking about the same thing?”

Seoho ponders the idea vocally, holding a note until he releases a breath.  _ “Mm, beats me. Not impossible, though. We’ll talk about this more later. Just get home safely, please.” _

“Yeah. I’ll text you when I’m home,” the older male promises, starting his car. “Thanks Seoho, I’ll talk to you later.”

They hang up, and before he starts driving off, Ravn takes one last long look at the envelope. Perhaps “one of these days” doesn’t have to be an eternity away if he doesn’t want it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading, and I hope you all have a safe and happy Halloween!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwanwoong is down on his luck when his letter for Ravn goes missing. Meanwhile, Keonhee notices a shift in his relationship with his tutor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!
> 
> Holiday season has kept many extremely busy despite unprecedented events. Still, I hope you all have been safe and well! Without further ado, I present to you a long awaited update!

“Keonhee,” Seoho deflates, “you’re distracted again.”

The taller male sits up, feigning attentiveness. “No I’m not.”

“You don’t have to lie. I know you haven’t been following along again.”

Keonhee can only hold his stiff position for another five seconds before he sinks back into his chair. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. Okay, I’m listening now.”

It happens more often than not, when Keonhee’s mind wanders away from the subject at hand and floats into the clouds. During their very first tutoring sessions, the upperclassman merely dismissed it as the younger just having a hard time processing information. But then it occurred multiple times in a single hour, and then Seoho grew frustrated with him; it was like Keonhee’s parents chastising him with a new voice (the disappointment too much to bear sometimes). Because of that, it was instinct for Keonhee to snap back to reality and curl up in a ball, just in case Seoho’s eraser was tempted to slap him between the knuckles of his hands. 

Keonhee retracts his arms to his sides, wide eyes locked on his tutor.

Seoho is watching him too, boredly setting his chin in his hand as he taps the eraser end on the table. “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Keonhee holds his tongue. This is new.

His tutor sighs, setting the pencil down. He doesn’t look as bored as he does worried. Keonhee thinks he can actually hear an alarm sounding off in his head; the usual mindset he puts himself into before every meeting is now failing him. Does he really have to think of Seoho as someone _other_ than a tutor right now? The last time he had to do that was—

(The hangout at Starbucks.)

Keonhee isn’t sure he can do it again. His face is blooming with a strange heat he still isn’t familiar with. How embarrassing.

But Seoho seems to pay it no mind, still focused on Keonhee’s eyes. “You’ve been so out of it lately. Since late September, really. At first I thought you were just trying to skirt around doing your homework and studying, but you’re a much smarter and harder worker than your grades say.”

Keonhee is burning with shame. He’s counting down the time he guesses he’ll spontaneously combust. “But you only knew me for a month before that. Are you sure this isn’t just the true me?”

Seoho frowns, as though he had just been offended. “You’re not implying that you’re shallow, are you?”

The younger male is starting to think perhaps it isn’t a good idea to keep talking poorly about himself in front of him. “No. I just wanna know what you’re thinking.”

The junior student relaxes his arm holding his face onto the table’s surface. “Maybe it’s just because of the last time we spoke to each other, but… I think maybe because we’ve spoken outside of our tutor-pupil setting, I started seeing a different side to you. Like I’d learned more about you through those thirty minutes in the Starbucks than through all of our sessions combined.”

Somewhere along the way, Seoho’s gaze sank to the table. Keonhee’s curiosity is piqued. “Oh? And what have you learned?”

“You’re naturally bright and very extroverted. Maybe it’s an illusion I had of you just _because_ you’re having so much trouble with math, but you aren’t just a student scraping by doing the bare minimum.” He sucks in his cheeks, a gesture that _does things_ to Keonhee’s heart, and continues; “You genuinely care about people, especially your friends, and you’re a very affectionate person. You prefer to see them happy, and you’ll even turn yourself into the butt of every joke if it gets them to laugh.”

The freshman doesn’t know what to do with this information. And it isn’t like Seoho is _flirting_ with him, because he most definitely _isn’t_ and most certainly doesn’t see him _that way._ But this sudden shift from their usual dynamic as strangers performing a transactional service into one that implies they are _friends_ —or at least good acquaintances— leaves Keonhee feeling uneasy and uncharacteristically timid. 

Yes, he has fantasized intimacy almost too often for it to be normal and quipped about it almost every day with Hwanwoong, but if it looks anything like _this—_ God, he’s not sure if he could handle it.

“It’s not like it’s a total surprise, but seeing you in a comfortable state, away from the textbook and tests…” Seoho’s lips pull into a smile, “it’s pretty refreshing.”

(Nope. He can’t take it.)

Keonhee doesn’t have a response planned. He feels giddy, a little embarrassed, but he doesn’t want to let this blooming feeling in his chest impede his ability to speak. “I didn’t think much of it. It was just us hanging out with friends before torturing my roommate.”

Seoho probably wants to say more, but Keonhee’s ears only pick up a soft hum. “Anyway, I figured if the relaxed and friendly Keonhee I met that day is the true Lee Keonhee, then I must be missing something here when I’m sitting across from him during our tutoring sessions.”

Keonhee laughs. He doesn’t mean for it to sound forced, but he knows he didn’t imagine Seoho’s smile slowly withering away. “Well, not having to think about walking out of my very first college semester with my very first failing grade is nice, I guess. But I think in all seriousness, I just really enjoy being with my friends. Like anyone would.”

The junior tilts his head, adding to the innocent curiosity his face was wearing. “Are you failing math, Keonhee?”

Oh God, here it comes. Keonhee has to brace himself, locking what he fears may be his last breath away in his chest. He remembers the toasted and fluffy croissant he ate for breakfast that morning and the silly talk he had with his very best friend Hwanwoong before class, and he assured himself that if he knew they would have been the very last meal and conversation he would have before death, respectively, he would have told himself to appreciate them more.

No use regretting it now; his time had come.

“You look like you’re about to wet yourself.”

Keonhee cracks an eye open. “You’re not gonna kill me?”

Seoho doesn’t respond. He’s not moving, and more surprising still… not angry? His eyes are still glued to his pupil, gazing as intently as he had been when they started. “Not this time, unless you want me to.”

Keonhee’s caged breath slowly slips past his lips, feeling the subtle soreness in his muscles as every last bit of tension is dispelled from his body. While it’s nice to know he has a higher chance of waking up tomorrow morning, he’s not too sure where to steer the conversation now. “Please don’t scare me, hyung. I’m not sure if my heart can take it.”

The change in the freshman’s tone and overall disposition hasn’t gone unnoticed, it seems; the next time Keonhee pulls his focus from the floor back onto his tutor, the junior smiles fondly at him.

_(Rest in peace,_ Hwanwoong would say in this moment.)

“Hyung?”

“Let’s meet up again Saturday, yeah? I don’t really feel like shouting probabilities and math stuff into the void for two hours today.” Seoho closes the book in front of him and stretches, as a result missing the incredulous expression plastered on Keonhee’s face. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

Keonhee would be damned if he passed up an opportunity to eat for free (and have a date with his senior). “For real? Please!”

  
  
  


_“Hey hyung, I left some food for you in the kitchen. I don’t know when you’ll be coming home today, but I’m going to be out practicing with Geonhak for a couple of hours. Try not to die before you eat though.”_

Keonhee chokes back a laugh, unaware of the glance it earns him from the other side of the table. Hwanwoong’s voicemail greets him after the press of a button on his phone; the dancer must have tried calling him during the car ride over to the restaurant. Poor thing had no idea Keonhee was eating out and made enough for two. It somewhat pains him to have to decline it, but he’s sure Hwanwoong would understand.

“Voicemail?” Seoho’s voice cuts through Keonhee’s thoughts. The freshman pulls his phone away and saves the message.

“Yeah. It’s my roommate,” he confirms, tucking the phone away in his jacket pocket. “He’s out dancing today, but he had food left over from dinner he made.”

The junior chuckles, gently slipping the plastic straw into his glass of water and pressing it against his lips. “Your roommate is…”

“Hwanwoong,” Keonhee answers with a grin. “The cute blonde you met the other day.”

“That’s right,” Seoho hums, eyes floating to the ceiling as he recalls their impromptu get-together. “He ordered the pumpkin spice latte, right?”

Keonhee nods. He must be very good at remembering people’s orders. “That’s him. He’s the one who wrote the letter for Ravn.”

Seoho’s gaze snaps back to Keonhee. “Oh yeah! How could I forget that detail! So tell me, how well did that go? Did he deliver it?”

The taller man shakes his head, his smile finally faltering. “No. He lost it somewhere, he said. He figured it fell out of his bag someplace.” He stretches his arms over his head and groans. “Who knows?”

Seoho is pensive, tapping his chin with a finger. “That’s too bad…”

Keonhee lowers his arms back down to his sides and takes a sip of his soda, now observing his tutor carefully. He vaguely recalls Seoho mentioning his own affair with Ravn, and under normal circumstances, his first instinct would have been wariness for signs of jealousy and possessiveness. 

But this _isn’t_ a normal circumstance. Not many people would create a system just for cycling out friends with benefits. This is a peculiar case with even stranger motives, and all Keonhee knows is that there is no happy ending guaranteed for his best friend, who doesn’t deserve to have his heart thrown away like it would be.

“May I ask you something personal, Seoho?” Keonhee queries, meticulous with his wording. “What would you recommend for Hwanwoong to do, now that you know what he wants to do?”

Seoho doesn’t answer right away, instead countering with, “What did _you_ tell him to do?”

Keonhee accidentally bites his tongue. “Oh. Um. Well, I encouraged him.”

“You two are best friends, right?” Seoho points out his index finger, but absently presses it against the table’s surface by the condensing water nearest his glass. “Do you know how Ravn’s raffle works?”

Keonhee nods. “I do, thanks to a friend. But Hwanwoong doesn’t know that well, or mind it, really… and as much as I want to stop him, I don’t want to be the one who conditions him to get cold feet every time he wants to confess to someone he likes.”

It’s reasonable enough. The junior smiles sadly. “Are you afraid he’ll hate you if you push him into getting hurt?”

The words sink like a rock in his stomach before fully registering in his head. “No! I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem like the type to hold it against me. He would sooner put himself down before confronting me, but then again…” Discouragement stirs with fear in his chest. “I don’t know.”

Seoho giggles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fill your head with crazy ideas. I’m putting you in Hwanwoong’s shoes just because _I’ve_ been there before. I felt wrong for holding a grudge against the senior for setting us up even though she probably knew it would only be a temporary thing.”

The younger male slightly tilts his head. “You weren’t part of the raffle yourself?”

“Kind of.” Seoho’s eyes lose focus as they stare straight ahead of him, losing himself in his thoughts. “We had just met, and I was under the impression that Hyejin— my senior— was trying to help me meet someone as I was coming to terms with myself. But since he was receiving all these letters, I figured I should just give him one anyway. And after three weeks, when he pulled it, boom: we were _“dating.”_ Though it wasn’t for real, of course.”

Keonhee’s brows furrow while Seoho hums, the waitress approaching them and placing their choices of meals in front of them. He waits patiently and exchanges words of thanks with the kind woman until she returns inside the kitchen, his eyes drinking up the sight of simmering pork glossed over with savory sauces. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until the food in all its tantalizing glory was sitting before him, and he’s grateful that they’re here enjoying a delicious meal instead of trying to cram impossibly difficult mathematical concepts into his brain.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare at it?” Seoho quips, and Keonhee’s first thought is about how cute he finds the older male’s smile as it reaches his eyes, and how it has the chance to stop his heart at any given moment. “That looks good though. What did you order?”

“Spicy pork BBQ,” he chirps, swallowing the collecting drool in his mouth. “You?”

“Yangnyeom chicken.” Seoho definitely seems proud of himself. “It’s my first meal out in a while, so I thought I’d go with a classic.”

Keonhee wastes no time digging in after a quick thanks. “You don’t eat out often?”

Seoho shakes his head, tearing his chopsticks apart and poking away at the meat. “I’m always too busy. The days I have off are wasted with sleep. Since I juggle two jobs, I’m always working more often than not.”

Keonhee lets the savory meat hit every corner of his mouth before swallowing, asking, “Yeah, ‘cause you’re helping someone else besides me with science or something, right? And you work your other job on the weekends?”

“That’s right.” Seoho glances back at him fondly, and Keonhee is sure his heart is doing somersaults. “So being able to just break away and do this every once in a while is nice. And even if you hate me, thank you for joining me today, Keonhee.”

The younger male can only hope his face isn’t sporting a bright red. “Why are you thanking _me?_ I should be thanking _you_ for treating _me_ out to dinner. And of course I don’t hate you! I wasn’t—”

Seoho’s soft chuckle cuts his rant short. “I’m kidding. I think it’s about time we became friends, right?”

_Friends._

Keonhee disagrees with a nod of his head. “I’d like that, hyung.”

“And maybe getting to know you better will help me help _you_ better regarding your studies,” the older male jokes, collecting chicken and pickled radish in his mouth.

Keonhee sighs. “Look, math just really isn’t my thing. I only took it to put my parents’ minds at ease when it comes to talking about my future.”

Seoho wipes his mouth with his napkin, taking some of the sheen of his lip gloss with it. “But _you_ haven’t figured out what you want to do yet, right?” He waits for Keonhee’s silent agreement, adding, “So what I would recommend is to shoot for a passing grade. And once the semester is done, we’ll figure out something better for you to major in by January.”

Seoho must be figuring it would be better not to overwhelm Keonhee with the thought of pursuing a career he obviously wouldn’t have the passion for. The freshman is appreciative, if nothing else, that despite his typical frustration, he’s nothing short of adaptive and understanding. 

Keonhee devours another mouthful of food, ignoring the cheeky remark from his company (or he might just combust at the unwanted attention). “You’ll be busy around Christmastime too, right?”

Seoho takes a pause from enjoying his meal. “Definitely for my part time job, since they’re giving us all more hours. The tutoring sessions would be put on hold till next semester… that is, as long as my current clients are willing to continue working with me.”

Oh he does _not_ like the glint in the junior’s eyes. It beckons and almost taunts him, and Keonhee knows he’s being guilted into giving him what he wants. Keonhee anxiously swallows a lump in his throat that isn’t food. “Well, it’s not like I’ll be taking math again. I don’t want to waste your time when you could be making more money from people who actually need you.”

Seoho hums, absently taking another sip of his water. “I understand, Keonhee. I get it.”

Does he? Keonhee’s eyes fall onto the plate; he’s still hungry but the drive to eat has somehow died. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t be sorry! You’ve got more on your plate than I do!” The older male points his fork at him. “But you’re right, you may not need me again next semester. You might find yourself pursuing something more artistic! Who knows?”

Keonhee can’t help the smile that blooms on his face. “Hey, saying it like that sounds bad. I still hope we can be friends!”

“Of course we can.”

_Friends._

Keonhee opens his mouth again, though the question he wants to ask now is lodged in his chest and refuses to find his voice. Instead, he leans on the table and flashes Seoho his brightest smile. “You should tell me when you’re working! I’ll come bother you and have you remake my order.”

Seoho’s soft expression quickly twists into a scowl. “You get an americano, Keonhee, and you like it black. What’s there to remake?”

They exchange another laugh, though Keonhee isn’t sure if he’s imagining the heavy hearts behind the smiles or not. He finds it hard to imagine themselves in any other situation outside of their current one. 

Friends.

Why does that sound like a settlement?

—

“Because it is,” Hwanwoong confirms. 

Keonhee is sprawled on the floor, bag of books by his side and his jacket unceremoniously thrown elsewhere (he can’t recall if it’s by the couch’s feet or just in front of the TV). After bidding each other a good night, Seoho waited for Keonhee to disappear into the dormitory before driving off; at least that’s what Keonhee assumes he did. Hwanwoong, comfortable with a towel draped over his damp hair after a shower, is sitting beside him and patting his back soothingly.

Keonhee whines, “I’m an idiot and a coward. I didn’t ask him out.”

“You didn’t?”

The taller male flips his head to face the right, eyes barely able to meet Hwanwoong’s gaze. “No. He said he would be working a ton for the holidays. I didn’t bother with it.”

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes. “But you’re friends now, right? You could still ask; I’m sure he’d take the time for you.”

“Friends don’t make friends ditch work, Woong.”

Hwanwoong must be pitying him, because none of the rebuttals his brain must be dwelling on makes it out of his mouth. But his hand is still settled on Keonhee’s back. “You’re right. I just feel bad after you hyped yourself up into bringing company to the Christmas performances. But if he has work, it’s not like he can just change that. Especially _because_ it’s the holiday season now.”

Keonhee’s thoughts exactly, but the vivid parallel universe in which he and Seoho sit beside each other with linked hands among an audience of onlookers is plaguing his mind at the same time. What harm would there have been to just extend the invitation? The worst that could happen is be told no, right?

Damn it. Next time they don’t have to be in their tutor-pupil roles, he’ll make sure to ask.

Will such an opportunity ever arise again? 

“How was dinner with him?” Hwanwoong’s question disrupts his thoughts.

Keonhee peels himself off the floor. “It was nice, really. Instead of being pissed at me for daydreaming again, he ended the session early and treated me to that restaurant I told you about. You know the restaurant by the mall?” Hwanwoong nods for him to continue. “There.”

Hwanwoong processes the information in his head before cranking out a hard fact; “But you didn’t have to pay him the full price for this session, did you?” 

Keonhee doesn’t get it. “I actually paid him for all of our sessions in advance. Why?”

The shorter male presses his lips together in a fine line, probably debating on whether or not he should tell him what he concluded. “... It’s like you paid for the meal instead of him, if you think about it.”

Ah. That’s where his mind went. It makes sense, and technically, he’s right. But Seoho took the time to help Keonhee outside the parameters of what he was being paid for. At some point, he stopped paying him for his time. But the junior was still there even after their usual allotted two hours, and they were now calling themselves more than what was spelled on their contract. 

With so much on his plate, Seoho didn’t have to become his client’s friend. But he is now. They _are_ friends.

“I don’t mind it. The food was really good, and I had fun.” 

——

Seoho plops onto his bed with a long sigh, letting his coat and bag fall onto the floor. Despite the break he allowed himself today, he was exhausted. He’s glad he read the post-it note plastered on the front door when he returned to his apartment, or else he never would have known the whereabouts of his roommates.

  
  


_Hey Seoho, we’re out grabbing groceries. Idiot hyung forgot it was his turn to buy so I’m tricking him into watching a movie with me so he could remember to bring his wallet for snacks. Hope you got something to eat today._

_\- Kanghyun_

  
  


Silly Yonghoon. Seoho cracked a smile at the thought. It wasn’t as though his eldest roommate was irresponsible; far from it. He and their youngest roommate, Hyungu, were just as busy as Seoho, after all. Each of them work two jobs to sustain the roof over their head, with Yonghoon working in retail and as a receptionist for a small business, and Hyungu working two fast food jobs. Combined with Seoho’s income, the three of them live comfortably, though they have to overlook the fact that they tend to have more “losing their head” moments than the average person.

Hence the note’s humorous description.

The phone beside Seoho rings in his hand with an incoming call. It must be one of his roommates; he answers the call without double checking the ID and jokes, “Hey, how was the movie?”

_“... Movie?”_

Seoho blinks. “Youngjo?”

His friend’s voice suggests confusion, and never quite shifts away from that. _“Hi. Hey, can I speak to you for a moment? I know you just got back from your job.”_

Not quite, but Ravn doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I was only about to sleep.” Seoho is the only one sharing a chuckle, ears picking up the thoughtful hum on the other end. “Are you okay?”

_“I don’t really know. The girl I was dating_ this _week broke up with me too. You know the sophomore Tori, right?”_

With all things considered, this shouldn’t be bothering the senior. Ravn had only been doing this every week for the past four years; what difference does it make if the girl is the one to end things? Maybe the occurrence happening twice in a row is odd, but it isn’t improbable.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Ravn whispers, _“... My father is asking about my girlfriend again.”_

It’s the worst possible scenario, Seoho realizes bitterly. He sits up, tongue held firmly in between his teeth until he could speak calmly. “For the holidays, right? He’s expecting to see “her” again, isn’t he?”

_“Right. And it’s not like I can keep asking Hyejin. She’s not even in the city anymore.”_ Ravn sighs dejectedly. _“It’s already November. I hope this weird trend doesn’t continue.”_

Seoho’s eyes trail up to the ceiling. “Maybe it’s just time to call it quits, Youngjo.” He can just _hear_ the dissent in the senior’s nonverbal reply and clarifies, “Maybe since it’s so close to the holidays, the girls you dated would just rather be with someone for longer than a week, you know? Also, what’s going to happen after you graduate? You’re not gonna carry this into your work life, are you?”

Ravn snorts with a dismissive, _“Of course not. I would have something figured out already.”_

Seoho doesn’t believe him. “Would you?”

_“Yeah. And if not— then I’ll just cross that bridge when I get to it.”_

That’s not convincing at all. Ravn’s father is a scary man; Seoho has to repress the years of memories that carry his face from playing in his head like an aged silent film. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to nag you like that right now. It’s just that I’m tired and probably the last person to ask for advice tonight.”

Ravn chuckles softly, the receiver barely picking up his voice. _“It’s okay, I was already rude enough dropping all of this onto you when you’re fresh off of work. Can we talk more tomorrow?”_

Seoho’s phone vibrates with an incoming message, though he pays it no mind for now. “Sure. I think that would be better. I’ll have better headspace for it after a good night’s sleep.”

_“Okay. Thanks for trying anyway.”_

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the bare minimum,” the junior teases, “but if you’re ever so grateful that you’ll pay for dinner for us, I won’t say no.”

Ravn laughs, and Seoho grins. _“Uh-huh. We’ll see. Anyway, good night, Seoho. Don’t push yourself too hard.”_

“I won’t. Good night.” 

The junior ends the call and counts the elapsed time before the phone closes and returns to his lock screen, the inbound text message still waiting patiently for him. There’s no registered name— just a random number. That rules out his roommates, and just about anyone else in his contacts list. Perhaps it’s a scam message?

He opens the text and glances it over before recognizing the number; so far, only one other individual in the world could say to him what this person did:

  
  


**[From: +X (XXX)-XXXX] [Wed 8:12PM]**

_Hi Seoho-sunbae, it’s Tori._

_Thank you again for convincing me to end things early with Ravn. I had a hard time coming to terms with only having him as a boyfriend for a week. If this is a game he wants to play with the other girls, then fine. But you’re right, I deserve better._

_Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t hate him. I just hope he grows up soon before someone else hurts him, if he doesn’t hurt them first._

_I know as long as he has someone like you looking out for him, he’s in good hands._

  
  


Seoho sets his cellphone down after what feels like ten long minutes, the once delicious chicken he consumed hours ago now stirring sickly in his stomach. As guilt plagues his mind while sitting alone in the deafening silence, the only thing that comforts him is the fact that although the right thing may not always be the _best_ thing, the fruit of his intentions had to be at least one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is tomorrow!!
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading and enjoying Love Raffle. I’m extremely grateful for every single one of you. Please have safe and happy holidays, and I will see you all again hopefully sooner than later!
> 
> — Soph


End file.
